Connecticut
by Jamaica
Summary: AU fic. The tale of the FF8 cast when they are placed in our world the real world as students in a university. SeiferSquall. Disturbing content.
1. Prologue

Author's Note: This is soooooooo AU it's not even funny. But how else can you literally rip the characters out of the game and place them completely in our world without, well, massively change their backgrounds and circumstances? And if the background changes, the person probably will change. I am happy to say most of the stuff is actually mine and Squaresoft owns only the characters and a few other minor things. My first attempt at writing in third person so again, another amateur work.  
  
  
  
  
  
Connecticut  
  
  
  
Prologue  
  
  
  
It was a pretty house.  
  
He stood in front of the walnut door, on the stone gravel beneath rolls of golden autumn leaves, as the wind moved his hair. The hair was always messy, much to his dislike. However, that was not what had caught his attention at the moment. He was too busy analyzing every detail of the picture in front of him.  
  
The door was etched toward one side, off-center and left plenty of room for the two bright windows, shimmery glass reflecting the setting sunlight. The inside, however, was obscured with light-colored drapes folding into the windowpane. Neutral-grey bricks with bright mix of other fragments appeared into view under the blue-black roof. Steps of smooth rock lined under the front door, with a metal railing on each side. Bushes of undergrowth dotted along the base. The fading lights encircled the entire structure, giving it an almost misty and at the same time distinct shaded texture.  
  
Very homey. Like the model on a picture of the brochure in the mail about this section of the town. It even had the accompaniment of chirping from the robins, hidden somewhere above in the tangle of yellow and orange.  
  
He hated it. 


	2. One

Author's Note: Squaresoft got the characters and minor stuff. I got the rest. But they say that the character *is* the story, so that means I still own nothing. Noooo!   
  
  
  
One  
  
  
  
He frowned slightly at the unoriginality of his future home for the next 4, perhaps even 8, years of school. Being born and raised from the midst of uptown New York, he had always accepted the jagged constructions of his neighborhood as the norm. He knew the move to this medium-sized town in the state of Connecticut would bring different surroundings to his sight, but never anything *this* close to ordinary. The scenery was quite peaceful. Hard to imagine he stood only a couple of miles outside New Haven.  
  
He wasn't used to this. At all. In fact, he was supposed to be standing on the dirt of New Haven in the first place. The city of Yale was not very different in atmosphere from where he had stayed for the past 18 years of his life. But the financial situation forced him to abandon the goal, which he had almost achieved when he received the acceptance letter from the top art school in the country, and retreat to a smaller, more affordable institution near his dream.   
  
The failure of a scholarship and too much hope. His current school wasn't bad, no, not slightly. But it did not compare to Yale in any way close. His sister had told him the program was wonderful, and usually she didn't lie. But how much could a pianist, who had focused on nothing else but her specialty, understand about paintings? And sculptures? And oil on canvas? Still, she had 4 more years of experience under her feet than he did. Like previously stated, the school wasn't bad. It just wasn't Yale.  
  
"Finished with the detail-absorption yet?"  
  
He looked over his right shoulder, at the direction of the soft voice dripped with tease. "Yes. There's nothing here." He replied sourly.  
  
She chuckled and shifted her weight, apparently getting uncomfortable with the heavy suitcase in her delicate hands. "Would you like to ring the doorbell or should I?"  
  
He shrugged. She shook her head slightly, then stepped up to push the red button carved into the wall. Moments later, the door swung open, showing the figure of a girl with a warm smile.  
  
"Ellone!" The girl exclaimed as she hugged his sister. Her natural blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail and secured with a wide clip. A few face-framing strands rested on her shoulders. She was wearing a dark red hoodie with laced-up sleeves and a pair of denim. True blue eyes twinkled as her smile grew wider. "I didn't expect you to be here this early. I thought you're going to arrive some time around dinner."  
  
"Well, I had to take care of some registration problems." Ellone replied, smoothing her long black skirt before turning to gesture for him to come closer. "And that's my brother."  
  
The expression on the girl's face when she saw him was enough to convince him that her previous images considering his appearance were incorrect. True, who would think an old-fashioned sweetheart like his sister was related to the gothic walking artwork like him. He absentmindedly pressed his black leather jacket closer to his firm stomach, picked up his other suitcase with a gloved hand, and walked up to the front porch. The girl stepped aside to let him in and set down the heavy trunk. Her eyes never left him.  
  
"Find something you like?" He gave her a look. Women.  
  
The girl's smile didn't fade. "You know, you have really beautiful eyes."  
  
This time it's his turn to be surprised. Out of all the reponses he received from observers (and believe him, they were of various contents and quite numerous), no one had ever complimented his facial features before, especially the eyes. They were mostly concerned with his outfit, and the make-up. "Uh . . . thanks." He uttered.  
  
"No one ever told you that before?" The girl appeared bewildered. "Shame. Hm. Oh, where's my manners. I'm Quistis. Quistis Trepe." She extended her hand.  
  
"Squall Leonhart." He shook it firmly, waiting for her next obvious question.  
  
Before she could say anything else, though, his sister interrupted the introduction. "I better go. Julia's probably there already." Julia was her roommate in the sorority house Phi Xi Epsilon. One of the many advantages of being a senior in that sorority was guaranteed low-price housing, which his sister gladly accepted. It was also the reason why he had the luck to live in a house shared by 3 other people near campus instead of the freshmen dorms. Throwing in the fact that one of the tenants grew up in a very rich family and happen to know his sister, he practically paid nothing to be renting a room in this north-of-modest house.  
  
"Okay, really good to see you, though." Quistis called out the door as Ellone walked back to the beige Toyota Camry. She waved as the car sped off and nearly skidded at the obscure stop sign ahead. A good driver Ellone was, a slow one she was not.  
  
"Squall . . ." Quistis closed and locked the front door. "That's an interesting name."  
  
"So is yours," he pointed out.  
  
She glanced at him sideways with a semi-annoyed expression, "It's not that uncommon if you live in Northern Europe."  
  
"You live there?"  
  
"No, but my parents did spend their honeymoon in Norway." She said good-naturedly, confirming that her previous irritation was merely an act. "Why is your last name different from your family's?"  
  
The inevitable question every time his surname was required. He usually meet people through his sister's many connections, and the Loire/Leonhart issue never ceased with someone new. "It's my mother's maiden name." He said in an automatic tone. He was so tired of repeating the same thing over and over again. His father was a soldier during Vietnam. He had been transferred for a few times and lost contact with his mother during a recovery from injury. His mother believed his father to be dead, and named Squall with her own last name instead of the family one. Ellone was already 4 by then. 2 years later his father came back, fully healed and anxious to reunite with his family. But the name stayed. "Can we get out of the doorway before I explain this again?" He gestured at the two suitcases.  
  
"Oh, sure. Don't worry about explaining it, your sister told me enough for me to figure it out already." Quistis dismissed it with her hand. "Your room is upstairs on the left."  
  
"Have the others arrived yet?" Squall glanced around.  
  
Just as that inquiry was spoken aloud, he heard the lock of the kitchen door turned and squeaked. The rush of outside air brought in the scent of plants, as the door swung open quickly. 


	3. Two

Author's Note: I own all these stuff except for the characters and some other minor things, which, of course, belong to Squaresoft. And no, I have no idea where's I'm going with this, but like I said, expect something darkish, you know.  
  
  
  
Two  
  
  
  
The figure stepped inside the dusk-bathed kitchen and immediately scanned the room. Jade-green eyes sparkled with diligent passion and never- ending mischief under the short hair of ripened corn. He was quite tall, with broad shoulders and the dense muscle of a football player. He wore a simple black t-shirt and faded blue jeans.  
  
As soon as his eyes landed on Quistis, the boy's face broke into a huge grin. He sauntered forward and wrapped her in a hug. "So how's my favorite lady doing?"  
  
She snorted. "Right, I'm the only lady who'll talk to you and who's paying half the bills for this house." Nevertheless she accepted the light kiss on her cheek from the other boy. "Hey, meet Squall." She turned back to him. "This is Squall Leonhart, and this, is Seifer Almasy."  
  
"Whoa, what 1930's vamp movie did they rip you out of?" Seifer tilted his head.  
  
Squall scoffed in annoyance. Typical judge-by-the-cover dumb jocks. "Bite me." He retorted.  
  
The blonde raised both of his eyebrows suggestively as a response. "Not literally, Seifer," Quistis rolled her eyes. "Give the guy a break."  
  
"Aw, the type that can't take a joke?" He attempted to slide his hands further under Quistis' shirt, but was forced to give up when she slapped his arms, hard.  
  
"Back off, geez," she scowled. "Or I'm going to let my boyfriend beat you up."  
  
"Ha," Seifer laughed out loud. "Make sure you don't. Because if he ever tried then I'll have to tie him up and have my way with him *very personally.*" He immediately let go of her as she swiped at his head, dodging just in time.  
  
"If you *ever* do *anything* to him I will *kill* you. I do have ropes around the house and your neck is quite sufficient for hanging, you know." She pointed her finger to his face.  
  
The grin that swamped Seifer's face was more than a little irritating in Squall's eyes. He decided that he didn't like the guy. "Grow up." He told the duo, statement clearly meant for the male to hear.  
  
"Oh, and I suppose you are an expert in that field." Seifer said in the cocky voice of his. "What kind of name is 'Squall' anyway?"  
  
"What kind of name is 'cypher'?" Squall furrowed his eyebrows together. He liked his name. It was much better than his last name. With all due respect to his mother and her family, but Leonhart was probably the most ridiculous name he had ever heard of in his life. It may sound acceptable if he lived in a fantasy world with elves and pixies, but in the middle of concrete and cars and real people, it seemed outlandish. At least the name 'Squall' contained a flare of uniqueness that separated him from the mass with good connotations.  
  
"So my ancestor's Russian. Haven't you heard of diversity?" Seifer gave him a look. "Where you from, the backwoods of Mississippi?"  
  
"New York,"  
  
Take that, he thought as the wave of surprise launched from his opponent's face. "Is your boyfriend the third person living here?" He changed target deliberately.  
  
"Yep," Quistis replied, obviously relieved that they're no longer arguing to scar. "He's out with his team. First meeting of the year. And he should be back -"  
  
Keys turned in the front door's lock.  
  
"- right about now." Quistis finished. The door opened and a lanky boy in a soaked shirt and dirty shoes trudged in. He stopped before he went any further onto the tiles and kicked off the pair of Nikes. He was quite attractive, as Squall casually observed, with auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail down his back and friendly indigo eyes. And obviously not available considering Quistis just told him who the boy was supposed to be. "What happened? I thought your meeting is just a get-together at the cafe?" Quistis asked.  
  
The boy shrugged. "Alex brought a ball and we just took off. Hey, nice to meet you." He offered his hand to Squall, who was taken aback for a second by the spontaneous greeting. "Squall, right?"  
  
"Yeah," he shook the hand. "Nice to meet you too."  
  
"Irvine Kinneas. Cool, make yourself at home." Irvine said as he leaned over and kissed Quistis on the lips. "Ah, don't hug me, I'm sweaty. Is the hot water running?"  
  
"Yep. Got it fixed this morning." Quistis replied. "And, oh." She seemed to notice that Squall's suitcases were still sitting conspicuously by the stairs. "Seifer, help Squall with his stuff. I got to go cook."  
  
"Right," Seifer snickered. "You just want me to stay as far from your boyfriend as possible."  
  
Quistis flicked Seifer off as she followed Irvine back toward the kitchen. Squall smiled inwardly. Horny bastard, he thought as he proceeded with the task of picking up his trunks. I really don't want this guy touching my stuff, he frowned as soon as the idea entered his head.  
  
"Just to clarify," Before Squall could reach the second suitcase, though, Seifer's hands had already gripped the handle and began to climb the stairs, "yes, I like men. Hope I didn't disgust you or freak you out with what I said before."  
  
Squall nearly rolled his eyes. "Well, he *is* cute." He stated as he followed up after Seifer. The latter, however, stopped dead on his tracks. Squall kept on, past Seifer and turned into the room on the left. He could feel the other's eyes digging into his back.  
  
"WHAT did you just say?"  
  
"You heard me."  
  
"Uh, wait a minute. Wait *just* a minute," Seifer dropped the suitcase in the middle of the second floor hallway, "Quistis!" He yelled downstairs.  
  
"What?" came the muffled reply originated from the kitchen.  
  
"I need to have a word with you! *Now!*" Lightening thudding footsteps informed Squall that the blonde had descended back to the ground. He sighed, then dragged the suitcases onto his bed. Unpacking was first priority.  
  
He didn't like this house. It wasn't something he could actually pinpoint: call it intuition of an artist. But he seriously didn't like his current situation. And there was no way for him to back out of it. 


	4. Three

Author's Note: So Squaresoft owns characters. Further disclaimers see previous sections.  
  
  
  
Three  
  
  
  
The house had two floors with an attic on top. Starting from the front door on first floor, a woodened passageway extended straight into the kitchen. On the left of the kitchen was the master bedroom, which belonged to Quistis and Irvine. They also had a master bathroom and a walk-in closet. The kitchen was connected to the small dining room on the right, followed by the living room with an excellent entertainment system and comfortable sofas. A half-bathroom hid itself between the passageway's and the living room's adjacent wall.  
  
The stairs faced next to the front door, on the left. Second floor had four rooms in a cross shape. On the ends of the hallway were the two bedrooms, left occupied by Squall and the other by Seifer. A bathroom stayed in the middle, facing the stairway, and opposite of that was a laundry room with washer and dryer. A rope dangled from the ceiling in the middle of the corridor, leading up to the attic.  
  
It was a finished and spacious attic. There was heating and cooling control in the room, the floor was carpeted, and the walls were padded somewhat to barricade outside weather's influences. There was a huge window without blinds or screen in the middle of the attic wall. The house was facing west, so the sunset could be seen every day, unhinged, from that window.  
  
It was because of this view that Squall chose the attic to be his art studio.  
  
His two suitcases were full of two things – clothes and art supplies. Nothing else. No laptop, no books, no other sources of entertainment or even necessary objects like toothbrush and towels. The easel and bundles of canvas took up most of the first suitcase. The rest of the space were full of brushes, color palettes, paint thinners, etc. The other suitcase was all clothes, plus his make-up.  
  
Squall was introduced to his housemates officially, in detail, this time. The other three were all sophomores, and none came here for the fine arts. It didn't mean they're not into the arts; quite contrary, all three were music-crazy, Quistis especially, despite her major field of Biology. Seifer took the English/Literature department while Irvine rooted in History. Aside from the obvious rich background of Miss Trepe, the two guys were from average income households. This eased Squall's feelings a little. There were other people similar to him after all, not the one with all the breaks.  
  
And of course, he learned several other things during his first dinner at the resident that night. One, Quistis couldn't cook to save her life. She could clean quite well, though, as proved after dinner when clearing came around. Two, Seifer was horny 24/7 and a complete computer freak. He kept on trying to flirt with Irvine, despite Quistis' warnings, and Irvine naturally ignored him. After dinner Seifer perched himself in front of the Alienware '02 in the dining room, which was converted into a semi-study, and didn't get up until midnight. Three, Irvine loved basketball. He had been playing on a team since he was about 6. That was what his afternoon meeting about.  
  
Now Squall was sitting on his bed, pondering how early he should get up the next morning and go shopping for the un-brought necessities. Good thing Ellone had told Quistis beforehand to at least provide a pillow and some covers. Not that it was freezing and he'd be uncomfortable in his clothes. He just didn't want to ruin the clothes by sleeping in them.  
  
"You're still up?" A voice floated in from his door. It was Irvine.  
  
"Yeah," Squall replied without looking. The figure waltzed in his room, grabbed a chair, and plopped down next to the bed. "You're too."  
  
Irvine shrugged. "Don't you need toothbrush and make-up remover and stuff like that?"  
  
Squall gave him a look. "Quistis sending her motherly regards?"  
  
Irvine smiled. "Partly."  
  
"I have make-up remover. Don't worry about me." Squall replied dryly. He half-expected Irvine to get up and go after delivering Quistis' message. But he didn't leave the chair. "Yes?"  
  
"You barely talked at all during dinner. Something the matter, or is that I'm just used to people who never shut up?"  
  
"The latter," Squall replied. This felt different. People usually leave him alone and he left them alone. But now he seemed to be living with Curious George's descendants, and there were 3 of them. "Why are you so concerned? We could scarcely call each other acquaintances yet."  
  
"Oh, I'm just making sure Seifer didn't scare you already into silence. He has that effect on people. He's not a bad guy, no, but sometimes he can be a major ass. Well, if you're cool with it then I'm gone." Irvine stood up and headed toward the door.  
  
"Hey, Irvine,"  
  
"Yeah," He paused at Squall's voice.  
  
"Why didn't you stop him when he tried to hit on you? Doesn't that make you uncomfortable?"  
  
"He's like that to every single person he meets. No biggie. I'm not his target and he doesn't mean it. I mean, like I said, he's not a bad guy. I'll see ya." With that, Irvine walked out the door and closed it behind him.  
  
It didn't take Squall but a moment to realize the purpose of this visit, and the things left unsaid. 


	5. Four

Author's Note: Squaresoft owns characters. Further disclaimers see previous sections. It's Four and I still haven't finish introducing all my main characters. Man. Hopefully I can get to the first major conflict this week. Don't you hate it when you know what will happen but to get there takes time and that fact is driving you nuts? My motto's quality over quantity, but sometimes that just takes so much work!  
  
  
  
Four  
  
  
  
He pushed open the classroom door and stepped inside. Smell of paint and wood and Superglue filled his nostrils, as color-splotched walls, banisters, and cloths came into view. A room full of watchful eyes landed on him, some curious, some indifferent, some scrutinizing to the point of rudeness, and they all showed it on their faces.  
  
"Is this Modern Art 101?" He asked aloud as he shifted his easel and canvas on his shoulder. The materials were quite heavy, even though he was used to it. It didn't lighten with routine.  
  
"Yeah," somebody answered him from the mass. He shrugged, then walked his way through and dropped his burden on a clean table. The professor hadn't shown up yet; Squall came half an hour early. It's simply startling to find so many students already present. He became so absorbed into setting up and finding his brush that he didn't see a figure approach him from behind.  
  
The figure was about to tap his shoulder before he suddenly sensed the presence and spun around, nearly knocking the intruder over a chair. "Jumpy much?" The figure asked.  
  
Squall stared at the girl. She had on a light blue turtleneck vest, crocheted and zipped at the front, with navy colored cotton pants. Her hair was dyed pure platinum, as in silverish-grey colored, and was cut very short. There was a black patch covering her left eye. Her right eye glowed from garnet to ruby, depending on the reflection angle. Result of an expensive order of colored contacts, apparently. There's always a price on being unique.  
  
"Have a habit of sneaking up on people?" Squall retorted.  
  
The girl snickered. "You're in my spot."  
  
He raised one delicately defined eyebrow. "First day of class and we're already claiming spots?"  
  
The girl tilted her head. "What's your name?"  
  
"Squall."  
  
"Squall? As in a thunderstorm on the sea?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Nice. Fujin."  
  
"Fujin? As in Wind God?"  
  
"Know your Japanese."  
  
"I know a lot of things. And you aren't Japanese."  
  
Fujin rolled her eye. "No shit. You going to move or not?"  
  
"No."  
  
For a moment they just stood there, staring at one another. Either side refused to back down. Then Fujin laughed.  
  
"Cute," she commented. "Very cute."  
  
Squall frowned. "What does *that* mean?"  
  
"Nothing," she then grabbed her own materials and plopped them next to him. "I claim this spot."  
  
Squall continued to stare at her. Then he shrugged again and resumed his search for his brush. I swear I packed it, he cursed himself. I swear. That's a good brush, too, had cost him 14 dollars. Where did it go?  
  
"Looking for this, bitch?"  
  
Squall twisted around and met the most intense pair of amber eyes he'd ever seen. Followed that was the spiked bracelets on both of the person's wrists, and the genuine leather jacket over a bulldog wife-beater. Combat boots and streaked-white black hair told Squall the speaker was from the New Haven streets. The gang behind him proved that.  
  
And in this upperclassman's right hand was *his* paintbrush. Squall's eyes narrowed. He'd seen too much back home to be nervous. "Give it back."  
  
"Sure, you can have this back," The leader circled him and stepped closer. "But you need to pay something first."  
  
"What?" Squall answered coldly.  
  
"Heh heh," the leader chuckled. His breath came close to Squall's ear. "Nothing you aren't already selling . . . slut."  
  
As soon as Squall felt the lick in his ear and the hand on his belts, he brought his arms up and rammed into the other's chest. "Fuck off!" He pushed the boy away from his body. The boy laughed.  
  
"Feisty. I like it." The boy stuck his hands inside his jeans' pockets. "Now I wonder –"  
  
"Just give him the damn brush and leave him the fuck alone." Fujin spoke up.  
  
"The She-Devil speaks, oh good heavens!" The boy mockingly gasped. "Well, considering Your Darkness have spoken on his behalf, I'd have to concede for now. Catch."  
  
Squall snatched the paintbrush as it sailed with an arc from the opposite direction. Look of disgust filled his face as the group sauntered to the other side of the room. "And that would be . . .?"  
  
"Keith 'Ultima' Prishner." Fujin answered. "Him and his Castlerock Men. A legend. And the biggest bunch of assholes you could ever find. Well, except maybe Alex, but that's one exception."  
  
"You seem to know them well."  
  
"Hell, no." Fujin rolled her eye again. "They intimidate all freshmen and newbies, me included. But then they learned that I could kick. Very hard." She nodded with pride. "Learned that yesterday when they came over to play football and hit on my roommate."  
  
"Who's your roommate?"  
  
"Rinoa Heartilly. You know, the voice major who's kind of ditzy? Came from the Deep South. Can't stand her. But . . . the luck."  
  
Squall smiled slightly. "Yeah, she's in my sister's sorority. I heard about her. So where you from?"  
  
"New York,"  
  
"Really?" He was glad there was another one from his area, albeit Fujin did not have a heavy accent. "Me, too."  
  
"Figures. Fashion statement. If I didn't know any better I'd say you're a sure fag."  
  
Squall's expression darkened. "Watch it there."  
  
Fujin raised her eyebrows. "You mean . . . shit. Apologies offered. Then, uh, this probably is redundant, but, definitely stay as far away from Keith as possible. There's plenty of horror stories and none too pleasant to be false."  
  
"Yeah," He agreed quietly. She didn't need to tell him that. There's one and *only* one emotion soaked in Keith's eyes toward him during that few previous moments of word exchange.  
  
Raw lust. 


	6. Five

Disclaimers: Squaresoft owns characters. Everything else belongs to me. Copyrighted. I know absolutely nothing about motorcycles, so I just used a name I saw in the book Stinger. So it could be a really ugly and old one but just pretend it's really cool. Anyone knows anything about cool motorcycles you can tell me, I just need a name.  
  
  
  
Five  
  
  
  
"Look out!"  
  
Squall turned just in time as the football zoomed past his neck. His companion behind him, though, jumped up and caught the flying olive object in front of her chest.  
  
"Good catch."  
  
Seifer walked toward the two coming from the streets with a wide grin. "Haven't see you since forever, Fu."  
  
"Yeah, well, nobody missed you." Fujin handed him the football. Then she also smiled widely and wrapped him in a hug. "Much."  
  
"Heh, right." Seifer buried his face in Fujin's hair. "Whoa, who did this?"  
  
"Me. Who else?" Fujin released him. "Now where's that dumbass friend of yours? I'm here to take him back to prison."  
  
"Hey! It's Fu, ya know."  
  
A giant came running from the direction of the backyard. He looked at least six-foot-four, with huge muscles and the physiques of a professional athlete. He was sweat-soaked in a white T-shirt and some black pants. It looked like Seifer and him had been playing football for quite some time.  
  
"Yeah, it's me. Now get in the squad car or I'm gonna have to use my handcuffs and gun." Fujin motioned with her hands. The giant just laughed and started to give her a hug, but Fujin backed away. "Ew, sweat."  
  
"Seif's about as wet as I am, ya know." The giant replied.  
  
"Yeah, well, he's Seifer, you're Raijin." Fujin retorted. "Oh, Squall, this mumbling fool's Raijin."  
  
Squall narrowed his eyes. "How did all of you know each other?"  
  
"Washington Central Conference." Fujin explained. "Summer program. My luck that half of the people there decide to come here for college. Quistis, Irvine, from there, too. Who else?"  
  
"Don't forget Zell and Selphie." Seifer added.  
  
"Oh yeah, those two crazy chemists. They're exactly what you label 'mad scientists'. They live like, a few blocks down in an apartment." Fujin pointed to the southern side.  
  
"I'm . . . glad you all found each other." Squall frowned. "Yeah, well, I'll see you." So *that's* why she insisted on coming here, he thought, knowing she'll run into old friends. He started walking to the porch when someone's arm swung around him.  
  
"Aw, feeling left out, pretty boy?" Seifer.  
  
Squall sighed in frustration and shrugged the arm off. He continued until he heard Raijin exclaimed. "Whoa, check out the bike, ya know! Yours, Squall?"  
  
"Yeah," He answered without turning.  
  
"Man, it's awesome, ya know. A real beaute, ya know."  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
"Can I take it for a spin, ya know?"  
  
"No," This time he stopped to glance at the brown giant hunching over his Honda 250cc. Freshmen weren't allowed to have cars on campus. However, to get to campus on foot from this location was absurd. He wouldn't leave his motorcycle behind anyways; had it with him since he started high school. It saved his parents from getting him a car.  
  
"Don't bother asking him, Raij," Seifer cut in. "He doesn't even let his own sister ride it."  
  
"That's because she doesn't know *how* to." He spat and spun around. He walked to his motorcycle and started to push it down the driveway. Didn't get a chance to do that yet since he got ambushed by a football the second he left the seat.  
  
"What's his problem now?" He heard Seifer talking to Fujin. She mumbled something incoherent and Seifer ah-ed. Whatever.  
  
He locked the motorcycle and walked back up the stairs, emerging from the door in the kitchen. Quistis was standing in front of the table with all of their mail. She greeted him briefly; her eyes never left the papers in her hands. Fumbling through the pile, she suddenly came to a stop and gasped. He looked at the thick plain white envelope she was clutching like it was her last breath of life. All he could make out was a picture of a can of film on the return address.  
  
"Yes! Yes!" Quistis started hopping as soon as she tore open the envelope and scanned the first piece of paper. Her grin could split metal sheets. She turned a circle, hollering, and then ran out the room.  
  
Squall raised his eyebrows. "O-kay," Bewildered, he retreated to the stairs and up to his attic. His art studio. And looked out the window.  
  
The sun had just begun to set. Fibers of rose and gold weaved into the sky as clouds in the distance bore same tint of red. The sun peeked through the trees, dotting yellow light on the windowpane. Squall smiled. He unrolled his canvas and set up the easel and paint. He needed to capture the picture before it could fade to oblivion. A few basic colors here and there, simple but vital for the memories. The critical shapes, lines, contours. Color can be brightened with imagination; places to inspire color for the imagination cannot be reinvented.  
  
"It'll be a lot faster if you just take a picture, you know."  
  
Squall shook and his brush tipped, accidentally spilling some blue onto the gold. "Quistis, do you mind?"  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
Squall held down his temper. "Why does every single person I run into ask me what's wrong? Nothing!"  
  
"Besides being sexually assaulted by a jerk, you mean."  
  
His hand stopped. "Fujin told you?"  
  
"No, Seifer told me. He offered the info, I didn't ask."  
  
"Well, Seifer need to learn when to keep his mouth shut." He spun around in anger. "I don't know what's the rules are in this house, but people *do* have private things that they don't like sharing with the rest of the city. That's why they're called *private*. If I want your intervention I would've asked you. If I want your sympathy I would've also asked you. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a very pressing professor in my major who assigned a critical assignment on the first day of class, and I need to work on it. Please leave."  
  
He turned back to his canvas. The sun had faded into the dark green leaves. He sighed audibly. Sunsets are unfortunately evanescent.  
  
"When Keith Prishner is involved, there is no such thing as privacy! If he really does has his eyes on you, then I recommend you start off with a gun. He's capable of anything and his family's rich. I came up here to give you a warning not to attack you, au contraire, I'm here because I actually care about your well-being and don't want to see you get hurt. You running into Keith is already bad luck. Him running after you is ten times worse."  
  
Then she left. 


	7. Six

Disclaimers: Squaresoft owns characters. Everything else belongs to me. Copyrighted. I think it's rather unrealistic for someone like Squall to be welcomed without a thought into the sophomore's little setting, so I did something to make the transition a little bit smoother. Or rougher. Either way here it is.  
  
  
  
Six  
  
  
  
Two weeks went by like this.  
  
Squall barely talked at all to anyone. He avoided Seifer. Quistis didn't bother him, and Irvine sensed the hostility and kept away from the middle ground by not speaking much to him, either. He was irritated with Fujin, but she seemed oblivious to this and continued to hang around his side. Raijin apparently lived a floor above Fujin and played on the football team with Seifer. He didn't see Raijin much, but every time Raijin saw him he asked about his motorcycle.  
  
And he hadn't see Keith since the first day, which was good. Although he's skeptical about the various caveats from others, he wasn't exactly that eager to see the gang again.  
  
He contemplated this as he sat in the attic, staring at a blank canvas. This bites, he thought. He had been here for a fortnight and already everyone's avoiding him. Granted, he gave them a fairly solid reason, and he's not exactly itching to be the social butterfly, but . . .  
  
It could get very lonely when the people sharing the same house with him were ignoring and refusing to speak to him. He went out of his way to make it this way, but now he had it and he realized he didn't want it.  
  
His sister was right. Ellone had told him to not act excessively aloof, for in college if one's distant one tends to stay alone, unlike in high school where one's forced into the social activities to some degree no matter what. He dismissed that as a nonessential thing back then.  
  
Now he knew better.  
  
Squall sighed. He tossed the brush aside and stood up from his position on the floor. He climbed down the small entrance and descended into the kitchen. He was being a complete asshole for the past two weeks and the realization was surprisingly none too pleasant.  
  
Might as well start making some amends.  
  
  
  
  
  
"What the hell are you doing?!"  
  
Squall had to concentrate so his hands wouldn't slip. "Cooking. What does it look like?"  
  
"*Cooking?*"  
  
Squall nearly laughed, but didn't for the sake of his own skin. He was holding a pot with boiling oil in one hand and the cooking spatula in the other hand, turning over vegetables. But the tone in Seifer's voice was making it hard not to smile.  
  
"What are you hollering about, Seifer?" Irvine walked in from the living room and skidded to a halt. "Whoa."  
  
Squall did laugh this time. He picked the pan up and tilted the vegetables into a plate next to the stove.  
  
"Okay, who are you and what have you done to Squall?" Irvine inquired.  
  
"You don't know me well enough to say that." Squall replied darkly.  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
Something in that answer made Squall look up and stared at the indigo- eyed boy. After a few seconds, Irvine grinned. "So what's that?"  
  
"Authentic Chinese food." Squall turned off the stove and picked up the plate. "I assume you all eat Chinese food."  
  
"Eat wha – ha, okay." Quistis appeared from the hallway. She only looked shocked for a few seconds before a smirk took over her features. "Well, dinner time already? I don't know about you guys, but I'm hungry."  
  
Squall brought the plate over to the already set table. Something clicked behind him on the counter. "Ah, there's the rice."  
  
"Rice?" Seifer again.  
  
"Yeah. You can't eat Chinese food without rice." Squall explained simply. He scooped the rice into a large bowl and carried it to the table along with the rest of the dishes already simmering on the top. He flopped down on a chair and began to fill his own bowl.  
  
The other three exchanged a glance. Quistis threw her hands up in a shrug and sat down, opposite of Squall. She took a fair share of rice and filled it with his cooked vegetables. She took a bite.  
  
"Mmm! You two, come on, stop standing and staring, this is *good!*" With that, she leaned over and dragged Irvine by his wrist so he would sit. "This matches your cooking, Irvine."  
  
"Nobody matches my cooking." Irvine picked up his chopsticks. He then noticed Seifer was still standing. "Seifer, come on, it's food."  
  
Squall saw the passing conflict in Seifer's eyes. Then the fleeting moment departed and Seifer finally sat down. The next few minutes were filled with chewing, swallowing, utensils tinkering and other sounds associated with dinner. It was about half way through when Quistis said slyly: "Apology accepted."  
  
Squall met her eyes and grinned in appreciation. He didn't reply, but relief shone through his blue eyes. The other two guys paused slightly: Irvine returned to shoveling rice in his mouth with the chopsticks a second later, but Seifer stopped and looked pensive.  
  
"Oh don't look so gruff, Seif," Quistis tapped Seifer's hand lightly. "Come on, we got two first-rate cooks here. Guess who's going to make dinner from now on?"  
  
"Hey, wait a minute, you can't just –" Irvine started.  
  
"Sure we can, Kinneas," Seifer answered. "So from now on you and goth boy here'll be our chefs."  
  
"Goth boy?" Squall raised an eyebrow. "I do have a name, you know."  
  
"I can think of worse names than 'goth boy', *goth boy*. Be happy."  
  
"Can I ask you something?" Quistis addressed Squall, clearly changing the subject.  
  
"Yeah." Squall replied.  
  
"Can I take photos of you?" 


	8. Seven

Disclaimers: Characters belong to Squaresoft. I wrote the story. Copyrighted – to me and only me. Oh, I need some clarifications here in this chapter because I can't show Italics on this.  
  
*stuff* – emphasized word. Equal to Italics in word documents  
  
[stuff] – magazines, journals, books, epic poems, anything that's a literary title  
  
'stuff' – band names  
  
  
  
Seven  
  
  
  
"What?" Squall exclaimed.  
  
Quistis giggled. "Don't need to get upset. It's for my photography class."  
  
"Yeah, right," Seifer mumbled.  
  
"Shut up." Quistis slapped Seifer's shoulder. "Okay, it's not *entirely* for my photography class. It's for this magazine. Remember two weeks ago I flew to the ceiling because of a letter? Yeah, that's from them. They saw some of my pictures and decided I could have a little section, about a page, in each issue, for a continuing series. I need some . . . muses."  
  
Irvine snickered. "Bullshit."  
  
Quistis' jaw dropped. "If you aren't gonna help me, stop messing it up! Jesus, it's nothing bad, Squall. I don't need you to like, strip or anything."  
  
"Hm, but you want him to." Seifer grinned.  
  
"Shut up!" Quistis groaned, unimpressed. "Like I'm the only one."  
  
"Hey now!" Seifer's equally unimpressed.  
  
"What magazine?" The topic of the conversation cut in, addressing to Irvine, the only one that seemed sane at this moment. But curiously Irvine blushed slightly.  
  
"[Magma]"  
  
"*WHAT?*" Squall leapt up. "Isn't that . . . ?"  
  
"NO!" Quistis shouted and at the same time the other two guys nodded.  
  
"It's *photos.* Art. Objects of art. I take pictures because I find artistic value in them. Sure some of the pictures in there are quite . . . provocative and shocking, but art can be shocking, and that what makes them beautiful. You understand, Squall. Plus, Seifer, you know darn well what kind of photos I take, so stop making up stuff." Quistis crossed her arms.  
  
Squall licked his lips. "Like what kind?"  
  
"She took a picture of me reading my English assignment. I fail to find artistic value in a picture of me sitting in a desk with [The Stranger] in front of me, but, well." Seifer gestured toward Quistis with his hand.  
  
"The point of me asking you this is that all of [Magma]'s photos are spontaneous. There's rarely any planning, if there is, it's arranged so it looked unstructured. Caught in the moment, if you please. So that means I may be taking a picture of you walking up the stairs without telling you 'look and say cheese.'" Quistis patiently explained, although her voice was quite strained. "Ignore the other two fools' hints and undertones. My pictures aren't intrusive."  
  
Squall thought for a moment. This didn't sound so bad. However, there was a tiny nagging voice in his mind telling him this topic did not simply appear out of the blue. "Why me? Is it convenient that I live here?"  
  
Seifer chuckled. "Squall, use your head, hon. No, it just *happened* that she's in this gig with [Magma] and she also *happened* to have three housemates, all are quite attractive men, and one is her boyfriend, the other two are gay. Yeah, how *convenient.*"  
  
Squall stared at Quistis, who was blushing furiously at Seifer's words. "Is *this* why you let me stay here in the first place?"  
  
"Well, fate can work for you . . . some . . . times." Her eyes wondered to the ceiling.  
  
"Sure," Irvine snickered again.  
  
Squall gathered his empty bowl and the chopsticks. "As long as you don't come into my room when I'm changing or my shower, I don't really care." He turned to put them in the sink. "Oh, or when I'm stressed out. Because then I may rip the camera apart."  
  
"I have enough sense to know when to *not* take a picture, thank you." Quistis also stood up. "And you two are going to pay heavily for that."  
  
"For telling the truth?" Seifer attempted to wrap his arms around her, but she dodged away quickly. "Aw, Quis, don't tell me the idea of catching goth boy in the shower doesn't tempt you one bit."  
  
"Ahem," Irvine cleared his throat. He came behind Quistis and kissed her neck. "As long as I'm alive and still her boyfriend, the only guy in the shower she'd be seeing is *me.*"  
  
"And because of your ever-so-big-and-nasty mouth, Seifer Almasy," Quistis added, "You'll be doing the dishes."  
  
Seifer glared, while the other three left the kitchen.  
  
  
  
  
  
"You free this Saturday?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
Fujin's question caught Squall off guard. She looked at him expectantly from her table with clay all over her hands. He himself was dirty and streaked with brownish dashes. Sculpting class.  
  
"Are you free this Saturday?"  
  
"Yeah. Why?"  
  
She dipped her fingers into the water basin. "Rinoa invited me to her sorority party. She said I could bring a few friends. You want to go?"  
  
"Is it any good?" Squall narrowed his eyes. He had been to a few of the parties thrown by Phi Xi Epsilon, and they weren't all that. He's not a big partier in the first place, rather stay home and read something.  
  
"Well, I heard this one's going off the wall." Fujin shrugged. "They're going to play a lot of good stuff, like 'Massive Attack'. Figure you'd like it."  
  
He actually did like those kinds of music. 'Kittie' wasn't bad, either. "Sure," He replied. It had been a while since he attended a party. He could use one.  
  
"Good," Fujin smiled. "It's at Candelabra."  
  
"You're joking." Squall raised his eyebrows.  
  
"Nope," Fujin shook her head. "I'm shocked, too, considering the majority of those people couldn't imagine themselves not reading the dictionary every night. Kiss my ass." She rolled her eyes and concentrated back on her sculpture.  
  
But Candelabra? Squall reflected. That place was so full of illegal activities that he questioned for a long while why the cops hadn't shut it down already. Better take it with me, then, he told himself. I was wondering when I'd need it. 


	9. Eight

Author's Note: Several things. One, the characters belong to Squaresoft and the story is copyrighted to me. If you want it, although I wonder why, just e-mail me. Two, for the complaint from last chapter about author inserting their own music taste. Yeah, I know what you mean, but that really isn't *my* music taste I put in there. I have some Gothic friends and they all seemed to like those bands, so I figure, well, why not? Three, the picture I described is inspired by an image done by Maxim. If you love Squall and Seifer, whether individually or them together, I highly recommend you to visit her site, http://www04.u-page.so-net.ne.jp/gd5/ksmt/deep-forest/, because she is amazingly talented. I didn't actually steal any of her copyrighted things because my image is simply *inspired* by her stuff, not *is* her stuff. Four, I have no intention to diss New Haven. I have never been there and only chose it because it fit the story well since Yale's there. So if you're like, 'hey, it's not like you implied in your story at all', well, you're probably right. Plus, most of the story's actions take place in this unnamed town *near* New Haven anyway. Five, Big Thanks for all the people who reviewed this story. Very very appreciate it. Phew, that was a load of stuff. I'm done.  
  
  
  
Eight  
  
  
  
"You're kidding me!"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Oh my goodness, you are so . . . wow. No wonder!!"  
  
"Good, no?"  
  
A light laugh. "Beyond that. Man, I didn't know he's so . . . hot."  
  
"Yeah, that caught me by surprise, too. I figured he is but not . . . to this extent."  
  
Giggles.  
  
"Would you two ladies mind?" The tattooed boy in the next room yelled. "Somebody's tryin' to actually do work here."  
  
"This *is* work, Zell," Quistis turned from her computer. "It's work that actually *pays.* Plus, if we're really bothering you, go to another room."  
  
Zell mumbled something indecipherable and returned to his chemistry book. He continued working for a few more minutes, but his girlfriend's and friend's giggles got the better of him. He slammed the book shut, stood up on his Reebok sneakers, and walked out the living room.  
  
"What is all this? Lemme see!" Zell leaned on Selphie's shoulder and tried to peek at the computer screen. "Whoa. Is that . . .?"  
  
"Yep," Selphie smiled widely. "That's Squall."  
  
"What about me now?"  
  
Squall came downstairs to get a drink. It was already six o'clock and he had to be at Fujin's in thirty minutes. Seifer and Quistis were also going to this sorority social, as did Zell and Selphie. Irvine had gone to Hartford for an away tournament the day before. He was scheduled to return on Sunday.  
  
Zell and Selphie visited the house frequently now. Zell was a hyperactive blond with 8 years of Tae Kwan Doe under his belt. He had an intricate design tattooed on his face from Orlando, his hometown, done as a dare from one of his friends. Zell's never-ending energy was matched only by Selphie, a green-eyed brunette with a cute flip haircut. She was on the cheerleading team, and did tap dancing for fun. They're both crazy about their major, Chemistry. Fujin's nickname for them was quite appropriate.  
  
"Nothing. Nothing. Absolutely nothing." Selphie hummed quickly.  
  
Squall gave the group a look. "Yeah, that's quite convincing. What is that?"  
  
"It's just a picture." Quistis replied.  
  
"And?" Squall deliberately ignored the hint.  
  
Quistis finally scoffed. "Fine. Fine. If you're so persistent to find out, this is the picture that I sent to [Magma] that will be put on this month's issue. And, yes, it's you. And no, you didn't really know about it. But that's all been said before."  
  
She rolled back her chair to reveal the computer screen. Squall walked closer, and examined the 2-D image of himself on the Photoshop file. His eyes slightly squinted.  
  
He was sitting on the window's ledge, against the afternoon light. A spool of canvas lay between his legs; it looked like he was in the process of unrolling it. His brush dangled between his lips like a cigarette. A pair of trim pants and a half-open dress shirt covered his body, showing off the well-toned muscles on his chest and arms. His hair actually wasn't that disheveled as usual, and his expression was relaxed, as if simply living the moment. But what's extraordinary about this photograph was the lighting and manipulations ascribed to Quistis and modern technology.  
  
The entire photo was shaded to the point of absence of all colors except for one. A tinted black-and-white photo. The tinge reminded one of those aged fine books, minus the yellow and add a bit of red, like Mississippi river clay. All of his standard goth makeup were gone. His face wasn't pale due to the shaded touch. His eyes were missing the circles of eyeshadow; the only thing left was the dark lines immediately surrounded, accentuating the brightness of his liquid orbs. His lips were pale, absolutely devoid of the ebony lipstick. He looked almost ordinary.  
  
And he looked *good.*  
  
"Whoa!" a new voice sounded astonished behind the curious group. "I didn't think it possible, but is this actually goth boy degothified?"  
  
"Oh, shut up, Seifer," Selphie rolled her eyes. "This looks great and you know it!"  
  
"Well," Seifer examined the image. "Good job on Quis' part, true."  
  
Squall sighed, annoyed. "Okay, excuse me, I have to go pick up someone." He shuffled through the other four students and headed toward the door. He felt slightly uncomfortable with the others scrutinizing him like that. It was uncomfortable to begin with for people other than himself to see him with minimal makeup. They haven't since he was thirteen. And the fact now strangers were going to see a picture of the "real" him was not consoling.  
  
He sighed deeply again. This wasn't in the bargain. Quistis didn't specify any manipulations, but she didn't say none, either. It's too late now. He could only give consent.  
  
When did she take this anyway? He wondered. She took so many random pictures nowadays it's hard to keep track. He absentmindedly swiped at the corner of his eyes. The silver-infused dark grey liner was getting into his tear glands. That never felt pleasant. Even less than the binding leather pants he had on.  
  
And the slight bulge in the pocket of his overcoat. A 35mm handgun nicknamed Lionheart. It's illegal to bring it on campus, of course, but he couldn't give a shit. He would be ending up in downtown New Haven perhaps an hour later, so the short stop on the third floor in Timber Hall would have to be overlooked. He wasn't about to risk his life just because a five- minute pause designated a no firearm rule.  
  
Squall turned onto the lamp-lit street, the chill October air forced him to wrap the overcoat tighter around himself. Gazing ahead, he put on the helmet and climbed on the motorcycle. Stepping fully on the gas, the slim figure zoomed down the street toward the twilight. 


	10. Nine

Author's Note: Squaresoft got characters. I got plot! Finally this thing is going somewhere! Yeah!! I didn't know it'll take me *this* long to set up background. No wonder novels spent like, 300 pages on the setting before it actually get to conflicts.  
  
  
  
Nine  
  
  
  
The music blared steadily inside the gloomy room. Bodies swayed and head thrashed, albeit not violently, because the beat was more moody than metal. The dim candlelight flickered on one of the tables by the corner.  
  
The table was initially occupied by six people, only two were left at this moment. A silver-haired girl in a glittery green top sat sipping Scotch Whiskey across from a dark-haired boy playing with his chained necklace.  
  
"Where is everyone?" Squall suddenly asked.  
  
Fujin shrugged. "Dancing probably. Why aren't you?"  
  
"Why aren't *you?*"  
  
"I don't dance." She shrugged again. "I can't dance. You, however, proved otherwise earlier on. It's not fair to rob all the ladies here the view of that perfect ass of yours now that they'd had a taste of it."  
  
Squall chuckled. "Music's too mellow."  
  
"Yeah." The girl emptied her glass. "You don't drink, you don't smoke, you don't do drugs. And yet . . . "  
  
" . . . I dress goth, I have piercings, and I'm an artist. The irony."  
  
Fujin smiled. "Quite fascinating."  
  
Squall turned his attention back to the dance floor. This party wasn't bad. At least at first. Music's decent, and for the first time he had people to talk with and not converse about the weather. Now it somewhat simmered down since it's well past midnight. Phi Xi Epsilon or not, Candelabra was not a place for undergraduates, and other stray people wander into the club in massive amounts after the stroke of twelve.  
  
Zell and Selphie were on the opposite end of the room, dancing and chatting away with some of the cheerleader friends Selphie had. Quistis was sitting at Ellone's table, talking to his sister. Seifer was nowhere to be seen.  
  
"Where's Seifer?" Fujin noticed it also.  
  
"I don't know . . . oh, wait, here he comes." Squall replied as he perceived the looming figure walking toward them from the direction of the restrooms. His steps were odd, though, as if he was floating.  
  
"Oh no." Fujin mumbled.  
  
"What?" Squall raised an eyebrow.  
  
"He's at it again." She groaned this time.  
  
Before Squall could inquire further, Seifer had approached them and plopped next to him. "You still sitting here, goth boy? Go move."  
  
Squall was about to protest about the music, but right then it changed. Seifer jumped up and grabbed Squall's wrist. "Come on!"  
  
"Seifer! Quit!" He disliked being forced on. He disliked the pain even more. Seifer didn't seem to be using any strength, but his hands were surprisingly strong. In a quick flash of light from the mirrorball, Squall saw a glazed film settled on top of Seifer's green eyes.  
  
He's high.  
  
Squall scoffed and managed to shake the hand free. "No thank you. I'm . . . slightly tired. I'm gonna go. Fu?"  
  
"I'm good. It's okay, you go, I can hitch a ride with Rinoa." She replied.  
  
"Running away?" Seifer smirked. "Aw, don't worry, I'm not gonna bite. Hard."  
  
"Right," Squall rolled his eyes. "I'll see you in class." He said to Fujin as he picked up the overcoat draped on the back of his chair. Even as he put the coat on and turned his back Seifer's eyes never left him. He shook off the uneasy suspicious feeling. Just go, he thought. This club is getting to you now. Leave.  
  
He stuck his hand in the pocket with the gun. Squeezing it tightly to feel the counterfeit security, Squall walked out into the street, heading to the motorcycle parked on the side.  
  
  
  
  
  
When he walked in the house naturally everything was quiet. He flipped on the light switch in the hallway, temporarily blinded by the fluorescent bulb. He trotted up the stairs, into his room. Squall then proceeded on to remove all of his clothes, changing into only a loose cerulean shirt and sweatpants.  
  
He was in the bathroom washing his face when he heard the door opened downstairs. Judging from the heavy footsteps coming up, it was Seifer. Why was he home already? Squall wiped his face clean with a towel. You'd think he'd stay there until morning.  
  
"What're you doing back here?" Squall asked when he stepped into the hallway and saw Seifer standing in front of him.  
  
"I can't decide to come back? I live here too."  
  
"No, it's just that I thought you'd –"  
  
"Stay a bit longer than you, yeah, you're right. I'm going back there. I just need to take care of something first."  
  
"Okay." Squall dismissed it with a shrug. He went back into his room and was ready to climb into bed when he realized Seifer followed him in. "Yes?" He frowned, growing a little impatient.  
  
"Does Keith still bother you?"  
  
The question was so unconnected that Squall stammered. "Uh, no. I haven't seen him since the first day. It's kind of odd, though."  
  
"Good," Seifer breathed. The warm air hit Squall's temples, sending slight chills down his spine. Just then Squall noticed how close Seifer was to him.  
  
"What're you doing?" He eyed the taller blond. Seifer's eyes still carried that glassy look, obviously not down from his fix. Squall backed up instinctively. He really didn't like this. The room suddenly seemed cold.  
  
In a motion that was as quick as a thunderstorm, Seifer grabbed Squall by the arms and rammed him into the wall. 


	11. Ten

Author's note: Squaresoft own characters. I own plot.  
  
  
  
Ten  
  
  
  
Just like that.  
  
"What the f-"  
  
"Shhhhh." The blond whispered. A hand came up and traced the soft skin of the other's jawline, forcing him to expose his neck some more. "No one's here. They can't hear you even if you scream."  
  
With that Seifer lowered his head onto Squall's shoulder. Squall stood there, back pressed hard against the wall, frozen. Completely devoid of thoughts. He didn't know how to react, at all. The shock transmitted from his back when Seifer slammed him still hadn't worn off yet. All he could do was stand there and feel Seifer's tongue traveling his neck.  
  
"God," Seifer murmured, "do you know how much I wanted you ever since you walked in the door with your suitcases?"  
  
Something in Squall clicked. But he still couldn't bring himself to respond. He faintly felt the beating of his heart approaching crescendo.  
  
Hands grew rampant now. Fingers deftly unbuttoned the light blue shirt, then pushed it away from the porcelain skin. The garment seemed to be weightless. It slipped off the shoulders and wrists, drifting soundlessly onto the floor. The hands then began to ease toward the strings on the sweatpants, pulling them slightly.  
  
Squall remembered how to react by then. He gasped loudly. Grabbing Seifer's wandering hands with his own, he swallowed a mouthful of air and tried to push away from the wall. His legs were numb.  
  
Seifer sensed this and laughed lightly. "I was about to say. You wouldn't just let me do whatever I pleased without any . . . oppositions, would you?" He shifted his weight so his body pressed directly onto Squall's chest. "You think you can take me?"  
  
Whatever Squall planned to say got caught in his throat. Instead, he let go of Seifer's wrists and pushed back fiercely. He just wanted the blond off of him. That's all. Not being squished into the sidings. Not placed under this feverishly hot body. Not here.  
  
But it was to no avail. Seifer had six inches and the compact muscles of a sports star on him. He easily seized Squall's struggling hands. "Come on, baby, it's not that hard."  
  
"Stop." Squall closed his eyes as Seifer resumed the teasing on his jugular. He began to panic. Frantic. His thoughts rumbled together into a massive ball of nothing. How did this happen? How is this possible? He asked himself again and again. How could he . . . he never . . . I never . . .  
  
Did he?  
  
Flashbacks filled his already racing mind. The look that Seifer gave him when he came through the door. Amusement at first, then turned a shade darker.  
  
The look in Seifer's eyes when he discovered about Squall's sexuality.  
  
The utter look of betrayal when Quistis casually commented during the peace-offer dinner that night.  
  
The way his eyes fluttered and misted when Seifer saw the picture manipulation on the computer. And the way his eyes were following Squall, traveling up and down his torso from the back. Squall didn't see it; he *felt* it.  
  
Absolute, utter, complete, unimaginable lust. Past that. Past Keith. Past everything.  
  
Oh dear God. Irvine was right.  
  
Squall suddenly wanted to laugh. Here was a guy who wanted him so badly for two months, high on marijuana, in his room, nibbling on his neck. He felt like a crispy M&M, the kind that even other M&M's wanted to lick and devour. It was hysterical.  
  
"Ow!" Squall cried involuntarily when he felt teeth sinking in his throat. "Stop." He repeated, still held down solidly by his tormenter. "Stop it."  
  
"Mmm," His warnings were disregarded with pleasure. "You taste so good."  
  
Hands began to dig into his pants again. "Stop! No . . . Please . . . Don't . . . . . No! STOP IT!"  
  
He finally managed to wrestle one hand free and began to grope along the wall, desperately searching for something. Anything. When his hand touched the cold doorknob, he gripped it tight. Seifer's warm fingertips went inside his pants, his evident erection jabbing into Squall's thigh.  
  
Breathing quickened to a painful pace, Squall let go of the immovable doorknob and began to beat on the wood itself. A hollow thud ran out, vibrating throughout the house. He pounded on it again and again, hoping frenetically for someone else to hear, although he knew it was in vain.  
  
The door suddenly swung open. Seifer jumped back in surprise, staring at the intruder with wide-opened eyes. Squall still had his eyes closed.  
  
Quistis stood gaping at them. Her jaw dropped to the ground. She looked back and forth between the two men, finally settling her eyes on Seifer. Her expression turned slowly to accusation, then fury.  
  
"What - are - you - doing, Seifer?" She stared at him, anger full blown on her features.  
  
Seifer narrowed his eyes at her. Without a word, he walked menacingly toward Quistis. Squall watched.  
  
Quistis blocked the doorway. Seifer extended his left arm and violently dragged her away. She stumbled from his force and landed on her back, her head connected with the edge of Squall's bed. She recovered her bearings a few seconds later, staring disbelievingly at the retreating figure.  
  
Seifer didn't even look at her. Or stopping, for that instance. He simply stomped out of the room and down the hall, back into his own room, and slammed the door behind him. 


	12. Eleven

Author's note: Squaresoft own characters. I own plot.  
  
  
  
Eleven  
  
  
  
The room was silent for a few seconds.  
  
"Oh my god!" Quistis broke the stillness when she saw blood seeping down Squall's torso from his neck wound. "Are you okay?"  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, it's fine." Squall answered in a quiet voice. He instinctively moved his hand to his neck, wincing when the fingers brushed against the open flesh.  
  
"No, it's not. Don't touch that!" Quistis jumped up from the floor. "Let me – oh!" She wobbled dangerously on her feet and had to brace herself with a push against the bed.  
  
"Whoa," Squall gathered his straying threads of logic and focused on the woman in front of him. "*You* okay? Did he throw you too hard?"  
  
Quistis shook her head, but then nodded again. "I'm, seeing spots. But it's all right, it's not going to result in something permanent. Probably a very slight concussion." She added when she saw his concerned gaze. "You, however, need to clean that up."  
  
She attempted to walk toward him again, but failed miserably. Squall stepped up and caught her before she actually could land on her face. "Stay here. Don't move." He gently laid her on his bed, before getting back up to go to the bathroom for some kits.  
  
It wasn't until after he closed the bathroom door that he let himself fall. Shaking slightly, he leaned against the sink and took in breaths of air to relax. His knuckles were on the countertop, turning white because of the grip.  
  
He wasn't a fool. He knew perfectly well what would've happened had Quistis not appeared by pure serendipity. He could be lying on the floor right now with his pants down to his ankles. And he was powerless to stop it.  
  
To know one's powerless is a frightening thing.  
  
But nothing happened. Whatever the hand of fate was playing, it *didn't* happen. Whether it was due to kind intervention or delayed deliverance, he didn't know. He didn't want to know any more than he wanted to see that housemate again in the next month or so.  
  
Squall groaned to himself when he finally looked up and saw the bluish-purple stain just above his left collarbone. The blood had dried now. A dripping line of red reached as far as his abdomen and sealed off in a droplet at the bottom. He found the First Aid Kit lying pacifically in the sink cabinet. Better get to that now, don't want the scar infected. He hastily wiped off the bloodstain with a paper towel and retreated back to his room. Didn't want to run into Seifer if he decided to come and use the bathroom, either.  
  
When he came back he saw Quistis had fallen asleep. She probably suffered some degree of head trauma; his bedframe wasn't built out of plastic bubble wrap. He quietly walked to his dresser, put down the kit box, and sat in front of mirror. The wound did need to be carefully cleaned.  
  
The sharp sting of alcohol was drowned out by his own thoughts. What would happen now? Was he angry with Seifer? Frightened of Seifer? He should've seen it coming, but didn't. Why not? Should he tell anyone? Police? File a report against something that actually hadn't take place but certainly had the potential of taking place?  
  
Too many questions. He was also too tired to think straight. I just hope Quistis is fine and we don't have to visit the hospital any time soon, he thought. He looked back at the sleeping blonde; she seemed completely out. Wait, she didn't *pass* out, did she?  
  
He put down the alcohol-soaked cotton and got up next to her. Quistis' breathing was quite regular, and there weren't any unusual movements behind her eyelids. He sighed in relief and returned to the mirror. Searching for a bandage through the kit, he glimpsed at the bruise. The blood clotted nicely. There was only a huge ring of purple around it now. And the teethmarks were quite visible.  
  
A very heavy hickey.  
  
He scoffed in annoyance, then taped the patch of white on his throat. He scoffed again when he realized that he only had one set of comforters and covers, and Quistis was occupying all of them at the moment. It was too cold to be sleeping just in his clothes, not to mention that he was half- naked at present. He sneered at the blue shirt on the floor, a mockery of comfort. Fortunately, Squall's bed wasn't small. Or, put correctly, the queen-sized bed in Quistis' house was large enough to sleep two people.  
  
Weariness suddenly attacked his wire body. Not giving it any more thought, Squall gingerly climbed over Quistis and lowered himself near the wall onto the soft mattress. He crawled under the covers and closed his eyes.  
  
Everything could be pondered about again tomorrow.  
  
Quistis' sudden jerk jolted him awake. He rubbed his still sleepy eyes and looked sideways, discovering she had sat up perfectly straight with a shocked expression on her face. No, more than shock. Borderline scared witless with a bit of shame.  
  
Squall raised his eyebrows. He then noticed she was obliviously staring at something at the door. He turned toward that direction -  
  
- and froze.  
  
Standing there was an equally shocked Irvine Kinneas with one hand on the frame and one toting his sports bag. His eyes turned for a brief moment, noting Squall's awareness. Then they reverted back to Quistis again.  
  
Squall suddenly realized he wasn't wearing a shirt. And Quistis had on a very revealing blouse with a huge tear on the front. The garment must've been torn last night and that was why she had came home around the time she did. She also didn't have a bra. His mind was too fuzzy back then to notice.  
  
And he was lying right next to her in bed.  
  
Ooh.  
  
Irvine removed the hand from the door and put it on his hip. He didn't say a word, but the expression told it all. He cocked his head, gave both of them a look of disdain, and retreated out the door.  
  
"No – it's not what you think – Irvine!" Quistis swiftly climbed off the bed and dashed after her boyfriend. "Let me explain . . . !" The voice faded as it turned downstairs.  
  
Absolutely fucking perfect. 


	13. Twelve

Author's note: Sorry for not updating in a while. I had four AP tests to take care of plus a pretty big writer's block. So I'm surprised to even come up with something today. Squaresoft still owns all these pretty people and I sadly only have my imagination. No money. And again, thank you thank you thank you thank you for all my faithful reviewers and readers. I really really appreciate this.  
  
  
  
Twelve  
  
  
  
"So then what happened?"  
  
Squall glared at Fujin, who sat across the table from him with her Differential Equations textbook lying open between them. The girl simply waited, her red eye full of imaginary innocence. Squall wanted to strangle her.  
  
"What do you think?" he spat. "They yelled at each other. Then they both left."  
  
Fujin chuckled. "No shit, genius. Irvine's gone for two days and when he came back he found his girlfriend in bed with this gay guy. I'd be fucking pissed, too, if I was him."  
  
"Shut the fuck up then!" Squall frowned.  
  
"It's true." Fujin shrugged.  
  
"Bitch."  
  
She laughed. "From what I gathered it's *you* who almost became one."  
  
Squall shot icy daggers through his eyes. He abruptly stood up and walked away from the table. Fujin, sensing she had crossed the line with her attempts at making him see this less seriously and cheer up, immediately followed Squall's footsteps toward the cafeteria door.  
  
"Hey! Hey!" She reached for his wrist. "I was kidding. I'm sorry."  
  
"Well, it's not funny," he retorted, still not looking at her.  
  
"I'm *sorry.*" She did force him to stop walking. "Look, is everybody okay?"  
  
He stared at her. "Come again?"  
  
"Is everyone okay? Did Quistis have a concussion? Did Irvine cool off? Is Seifer likely to bother you again?"  
  
"No, no, and yes." He sighed lightly.  
  
"Are you going back to that house?"  
  
"Hopefully not."  
  
"Hopefully or prefers not?"  
  
"Why?" He was still confused.  
  
Fujin put her hands behind her back. "Well, if that house's making you uncomfortable now, which I imagine it probably is, you can come and crash with me and Rin for a few days. It's a co-ed floor anyway, and the RA isn't that much of an asshole."  
  
Ah. That's what's she's trying to get at. It actually didn't sound too bad. The last thing he wanted right now was to go back to the house. Seeing Seifer was one thing he rather not deal with. There was also the apparent resentment from Irvine, not that he could blame the guy much, and the hurtful looks of Quistis that filled the atmosphere.  
  
He had quickly dressed and made-up earlier that morning. He skipped breakfast, naturally, hopped on the bike and zoomed away from the house. Irvine's yelling had woken Seifer, who seemed quite sober by then. Squall didn't stay long enough to actually converse with Seifer to find out whether the blond remembers anything he had done the night before or not. Quistis was sitting on the sofa downstairs when Squall reached for the door; Irvine had just vanished with his car. For a split second, Squall wanted to sit next to the depressed girl and help her sort it out, but it passed when he heard Seifer's footsteps coming down the steps.  
  
He bolted then.  
  
Now, half a day later, he was starving to death and wolfing down his lunch when Fujin decided to join him. The whole story spilled out when she casually asked about the bandage on his neck.  
  
"You sure?" Squall asked.  
  
"Yeah." Fujin dismissed it casually. "No problem. I can just kick Rinoa on the floor and give you her bed."  
  
"In that case, no thanks."  
  
"God, kid, it was a joke again." She rolled her eye. "It's fine. Really."  
  
Squall shrugged his shoulders. "Okay, then. Thanks."  
  
Fujin flashed him a smile.  
  
  
  
  
  
"*You're* Squall? *You?* Wow!"  
  
Squall saw Fujin rubbed her temples. "Yeah. We met before."  
  
"We have? Oh, sorry, then, I can't associate names with faces, even the ones that really stand out. Well, then I guess you know I'm Rinoa." The dark-haired Asian smiled.  
  
Squall tried not to laugh when he heard Fujin mumble "unfortunately" under her breath. "Nice to meet you."  
  
"Yeah, same here. How long you're gonna stay?"  
  
He thought for a minute. "Uh, maybe a couple of days."  
  
"Why? I remember now, you're Ellone's brother!" The coffee eyes flashed. "Yeah, the name thing totally threw me off, like, major. But anyway, I thought you're staying at that Trepe girl's place with Almasy and Kinneas? What happened? Y'all had a fight or something?"  
  
Squall raised his eyebrows. "Do you know them well?"  
  
"Uh-uh," Rinoa shook her head. "I know them from their jersey numbers. You know, last name and number on the back thing? I'm a cheerleader and I see them at games a lot. Plus, Seifer comes around once in a while with Raijin."  
  
"Oh, so you know Selphie."  
  
"Oh yeah." Her expression showed extreme amazement. "Crazy girl, oh Lord! Her and that boyfriend of hers almost blew up the entire biology lab two weeks ago. My goodness. You didn't hear about that?"  
  
"No," He usually wasn't interested in these rumors flying around. "What happened?"  
  
"I don't know *exactly*, but I heard Selphie mixed some chemicals together that's not supposed to be mixed together, and it caught on fire. Then her boyfriend tried to put it out with the first thing he grabbed, I mean, come on, *that's* logical. And the thing he grabbed is like, super flammable, and the lab went 'Boom!' Nobody's hurt, though, thank God."  
  
"Uh, as interesting as that sounds, let Squall put down his stuff first, shall we?" Fujin cut in.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry." Rinoa's eyes went wide. "My bad. I gotta run anyway. I'll see y'all later. Nice meeting you, Squall." She ran out the door.  
  
Fujin rolled her eye exasperatedly as soon as the figure turned the corner. "My Lord, she would not shut up! Whawhawhawhawha, on and on and on and . . . It's so fucking annoying!"  
  
Squall smirked. "She's friendly enough. I like her."  
  
The look she gave him was good enough to make him laugh out loud. 


	14. Thirteen

Author's note: Squaresoft owns characters. I own plot.  
  
  
  
Thirteen  
  
  
  
Squall truly learned how hard the dorm floors could be.  
  
He tossed and turned incessantly, dreaming of nothing and everything. He didn't understand; usually he couldn't care less where he crashed. Now he couldn't sleep because of one small notch digging in his back. Or was that a bruise?  
  
Squall sighed. Wide-awake around 3:30 am, he stood up from the floor position quietly. He could hear Rinoa and Fujin's breathing on the bunk bed next to him. Squall crawled around in the unfamiliar room, feeling to the bathroom they shared with the suite next door.  
  
He splashed water on his face and contemplated his current situation. What am I doing? He cursed. I can't stay here! All my stuff that matters is in that house! He took a few basic articles of clothing with him that afternoon; everyone else was out when he went back, luckily. But that's it. All of his art supplies, his canvas, his half-finished works, were sitting quietly abandoned in the attic. He knew he couldn't move all of them to Fujin's room. And his professor just told them what was required for the semester exam portfolio. He needed to be in that house for the next few weeks to work.  
  
Maybe I could just lock myself up in the attic and not see them again until I'm done. Squall thought amusedly. Right, that'll work. He snickered and wiped his face again. It's smart to be away from them for tonight, but for the next week is simply ridiculous. He lived there.  
  
Hiding is no solution. Squall sighed when he realized that. He reemerged from the bathroom. I had to go back tomorrow. He sighed again and crept back on to his temporary rest on the floor. Might as well catch 2 more hours of sleep.  
  
He settled himself back under the covers. Closing his eyes, Squall drifted off to another round of fitful dreams.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Going back *today?*" Fujin stared at him. "It's not a problem, you know."  
  
"Yeah, I know. And thanks for that. It's just . . ." Squall fidgeted a little. "My studio's there. And the assignment that Seagill assigned us . . ."  
  
Fujin nodded in understanding. "Oh right, I forgot. Well, what do you plan to do?"  
  
"Do?"  
  
"You gonna report it?"  
  
" . . . No."  
  
She nodded again. "Right. Nothing happened."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Uncomfortable silence.  
  
"Well, I'm going." Squall shouldered his bag back on. "I'll see you in class."  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
He gave her one last look before turning to get to the campus' parking lot. His motorcycle glistened under the bright sun. The day was, ironically, beautiful as always.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Why're you here?"  
  
The accusation from Irvine's lips was ignored as the recipient sulked his way away from the living room. The only thing Squall threw over his shoulder was "I live here."  
  
"Don't go that way!" Irvine yelled.  
  
Squall narrowed his eyes. Without turning around, he replied, "And just exactly why not?"  
  
Before he even saw it, Seifer's looming figure materialized in front of him from the kitchen. His obvious lecherous grin when he laid his eyes on the brunet indicated that he knew *precisely* what happened the previous night. And as predicted, Seifer knocked into Squall lightly and attempted to rub his ass.  
  
Squall immediately took a step back and untangled himself from the invading arms. His eyes narrowed even further. Fuck this, he thought. He reached inside his coat pocket and retrieved his gun. Might as well as scare the guy a little so he would back off.  
  
Seifer's expression was no short than amusement when Squall aimed Lionheart to his head. "Whoa, what's this?" He raised his hands in a demonstration of surrender.  
  
"Don't screw with me, Almasy," Squall replied in an even tone. "You touch me again I will make *sure* a metal ball goes through your forehead."  
  
Seifer laughed. He started to walk but Squall put both of his hands on the revolver. Seifer stopped moving, although the grin didn't fade.  
  
"Drop the gun, Squall." Another voice echoed in the room. Squall turned his gaze rightward, and saw the auburn-haired boy leaning on an arm of the sofa, looking bored.  
  
"Whose side are you on?" Squall scoffed.  
  
"Mine. Whatcha you gonna do anyway? Shoot him? With an illegally obtained weapon since you're undoubtedly underage? Please."  
  
"He's right, you know." Seifer smirked.  
  
"Shut the fuck up." Squall frowned. He scoffed again in annoyance, then lowered the gun and put it back in the coat. "Just . . . don't -"  
  
"Uh-huh." Seifer strolled toward him again. "Hey, Ice Prince, let me give you a little advice."  
  
Squall was about to tell Seifer off, but in a flurry of movements a .38 caliber with 'Hyperion' engraved on the side appeared in Seifer's right hand. A slight click and the cold round rod next to the skin of Squall's temple froze him into place, eyes fixed ahead.  
  
"Life isn't a movie, beautiful," Seifer's voice vibrated next to his ear. "Next time you point a gun at someone, make sure your safety's off. Oh, and don't try to shoot when you're scared. You'll miss." With that, he leaned over and kissed Squall on the cheekbone, right in front of his ear. The gun's pressure vanished, as did the blond a moment later.  
  
Squall waited until his heart rate slowed down before glaring at Irvine, who hadn't moved from his spot. His expression unreadable. "You knew he had that, didn't you?" Squall asked.  
  
"Yeah," Irvine shrugged. "Next time, follow his advice. He had that thing since he was in grade school. And for your info, he used it too." 


	15. Fourteen

Author's Note: Squaresoft owns characters and names. I own plot.  
  
  
  
Fourteen  
  
  
  
*Snap. Snap. Click. Click.*  
  
"God, do you ever quit?" asked the annoyed artist by the window.  
  
"Nope," replied the cheerful blonde girl, busily snapping away on her camera while sifting through Squall's collection of assignments. "Aha, here we go!"  
  
She picked up a stack of finished portraits and landscapes and started to lay them out on the attic floor. Humming to herself, she started to record the paintings down on her black box of memory.  
  
Squall paused mid-stroke as his brush glided the current work. He alarmingly recognized the tune that Quistis was humming – Amazing Grace. How odd. He looked at her crouching figure, hearing sudden filtration of sadness in her voice.  
  
It was December now. More than a month had passed since the run-in with a certain tall blond. Squall had managed to not utter a single word to Seifer ever since he came back, fully focusing on his work and class as to turn in the semester portfolio on time with quality. Seifer was furious and thoroughly irritated with Squall's actions for the first two weeks, but now he finally quieted down and ignored Squall in return. He didn't touch Squall since, though, so it wasn't that bad.  
  
Irvine, however, was a totally different problem. The misunderstanding among the three of them were cleared up, after some more quality yellfest between him and his girlfriend. But although he did not look it, Irvine Kinneas could hold a grudge. It wasn't to the point of obtrusive arguments, but the loaded snide comments he had frequently thrown in Squall's direction were enough to make Squall want to strangle the boy with his own hair. It was for Quistis' sake he didn't.  
  
Quistis actually was the one suffering the most from all this. During this time, she and Squall had gotten close simply from the lack of competition. She put on a brave front and act like nothing was wrong, but Squall saw the pain whenever she was near her so-called boyfriend. Her schedule right now was equally demanding, which prevented her any extra time to carefully work out the issues in her home.  
  
"Hey," Squall put down his color palette and walked toward the singer. He wrapped her in a small hug. "I'm sorry."  
  
"Would you stop apologizing? It's not your fault. Actually, it's no one's fault." She turned to him. "It's just a really big, major –"  
  
"Misunderstanding, yeah I know. But," he let go of her, "*you* have to believe that."  
  
"Now, see, if I don't know better I'd say there's something going on here that unquestionably should not be going on." A voice came from the doorway.  
  
"Shut up, Seifer," Squall rolled his eyes. "Why're you up here?"  
  
"I came to find Miss Trepe, not you. I need to talk to her about something."  
  
Squall reversed to the ignoring mode and concentrated back on his assignment. When he realized that Seifer was still looking at him, he eyed the blond. "You're not talking."  
  
"No shit, Sherlock. Does 'in private' means anything to you?"  
  
"I'm working here."  
  
"I don't know what your definition of 'working' is, and I don't give, but I do need to talk to her and you are still in the way. Now do you mind?"  
  
He's trying to pick a fight for some reason. Probably because Seifer could only go so long with the pretending-you-don't-exist method. Squall glared at him. "It seems to me that you moving yourself is easier than me moving all these and myself from this room."  
  
"Well, it took me a bunch to get up here so I ain't planning to go down any time soon. You need help going down?" Seifer rubbed his hands together and smirked.  
  
"Wha – okay, you know what? I'm not going to get in a fight because of this." Squall sighed exasperatedly, shook his head, and started to collect his tools and canvas.  
  
Quistis stood quietly, looking slightly worried. Seifer crossed his arms and waited. Squall got everything together, except for the almost- finished painting, and stepped through the hole on the floor.  
  
"You need some help getting this down?" Seifer pointed to the easel.  
  
"Yeah. But if you ruin that in any way I'm going to kill you."  
  
Seifer snickered. "How? You're gonna shoot me?"  
  
Squall ignored the comment and reached his arms up. Seifer took the easel and handed to him, miraculously not disturbing a thing.  
  
"Good, now leave!" As soon as Squall set the easel on the second floor hallway, Seifer started to slam the trapdoor. Squall held onto it for a second longer, warning,  
  
"If I come back and see even a *single* splotch on *any* of my stuff, I *am* going to shoot you, *Almasy.*" Then he himself closed the trapdoor.  
  
  
  
  
  
Squall grabbed all of his possessions and moved down to first floor. He stepped into the dining/study room and saw the leaking sunlight from the blinds. It reflected off the shiny wooden floor and focused on a spot on the brass lamp in the middle of the desk. The window's open and a breeze traveled throughout the room.  
  
Perfect.  
  
Squall smiled to himself as he put the easel down. He sighed slightly, looking over his last assignment. The picture was a particular night he observed from his studio. The moon was present, but there was set to be strong wind the next day, there a circle of mist surrounded the glowing yellow sphere. The stars were shining dully on the background. The sky wasn't pure black, but a hazy dark ebony mixed with greyness. The streets underneath were littered with bright artificial light. They seem to overpower the natural lighting above them.  
  
Need something more. One more thing, Squall thought. What's missing?  
  
His eyes wondered to the vacant blocks of square among the buildings and homes. People. Needed people. No, more specifically, shadows. A ghost of a figure to operate the replacement of light.  
  
He smiled once again. His hands moved automatically to the canvas, until he realized that the brush still had dots of yellow over it. I needed to rinse this. Squall shook his head. The cup of water was left in the attic with Seifer and Quistis.  
  
Squall walked into the kitchen toward the cabinet. He reached up, retrieved a plastic cup from the shelf, and descended down on his full feet. The cup was a tad too small, but it'll have to do. He filled it with water and walked back into his previous occupying space.  
  
"What are you doing down here?"  
  
The sudden voice startled Squall so much that he felt the cup slip from his fingers. It flipped over on its side, spilling all of its contents on the area below it.  
  
And what lay direct underneath was Seifer's expensive Alienware computer. 


	16. Fifteen

Author's Note: Squaresoft owns characters and names. I own plot.  
  
  
  
Fifteen  
  
  
  
"Holy fuck!" Squall jumped a step back. Irvine, the trigger of the accident, merely stared with wide-opened eyes. Squall ran into the kitchen and grabbed a stack of Bounty paper towels. He cursed again when he heard footsteps descending the stairs. The water dripped off the metal surface and seeped onto the floor.  
  
Squall dashed back into the study and started to clean up the liquid. However, he heard faint buzzing sound coming from the computer. Shit, Seifer's really going to kill me now. Well, he thought, I certainly won't go down without a fight.  
  
Another pair of hands joined his with the paper towels. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you like that." Irvine explained. "I was just –"  
  
"WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?!"  
  
*Fuck*, Squall nearly bit his tongue. He slowly stood up, not facing the enraged blond. "An accident." He replied calmly.  
  
"Yeah, I can see that there's an accident, genius." Whatever guilt Squall felt was washed away by the dripping sarcasm from Seifer's lips and turned into anger. "And I also know that you owe me at least 2 and a half grand for the computer itself plus whatever else I want because guess what, it *is* final's time and every single piece of work and project I had for the whole semester is on that thing. Now how the hell you're going to make it up to me is up to you, goth boy –"  
  
"Listen, it's my fault because I startled him –" Irvine started.  
  
"– but it better be good and even." Seifer ignored the insertion and continued with his arms crossed.  
  
Squall looked away from the blond's face. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he shouted in his head. But he only said, "I owe you nothing."  
  
"Bullshit!" Seifer glared at him. "What the fuck do you mean you owe me nothing? You –"  
  
"You deserved it."  
  
He didn't see the expression on Seifer's face. All he saw was rage infused in the fist that aimed toward his head. Squall dodged quickly and kicked Seifer's shin. Seifer yelped while Squall slinked to the opposite wall.  
  
"Come back here, you little motherfucker, because you certainly as hell deserves th –"  
  
Seifer stopped in his string of curses abruptly. Squall looked up and saw Seifer staring with a vicious air. He followed Seifer's gaze, and saw the target was his painting.  
  
"NO!" Squall made a frantic attempt to get to his unfinished work, but Seifer was closer.  
  
Realization came to late. Squall could only watch as Seifer tore the canvas straight in the middle with his brush's wooden tip. Paint flecks flickered everywhere, sprinkled lightly on the dust-covered floor. The canvas made a crisp sound as it was cleaved in half. The images that took Squall several days to actually thought up distorted into shapes like in a fun-house mirror and dissipated. The wooden brush he created virtuosos with was in its turn, broken in half and tossed onto the ground with less care than a dead insect.  
  
Whatever shout he had hitched in his throat once again. He didn't realize the world had gone red until it faded slightly from his vision. In a blinding ire, Squall threw himself at the smirking Seifer, ready to tear him apart like he did with the canvas.  
  
Two hands latched onto his thin waist from behind and forcibly stopped his raging torso. The arms were strong enough to pick him up from the floor by a few inches, for if they hadn't, they wouldn't be able to overcome Squall's momentum. "Whoa whoa, Squall! Beat the living shit out of him is not going to help matter any!"  
  
"Oh yes it will." Squall said through clenched teeth. "Let go of me, Irvine. Let go!"  
  
"Yeah, so I can kick your head in, *Leonhart!* " Seifer hollered. "Come on."  
  
"Seifer, shut up!" Irvine spat. He still hadn't let go of the brunet in fear of future massacre. "Squall, breathe."  
  
Squall managed to wrestle free from Irvine's grasp. He didn't launch at Seifer, to his own surprise, but simply stood there, breathing heavily. He ran his hand through his damp hair, tussled it some more in the process. He saw Irvine staring hard at Seifer, the eyes permeated with meaning but he couldn't care to figure it out at the moment. He let out a loud sigh one more time, then turned around toward the door.  
  
Quistis was standing there, absorbing everything in with shocked features. She tried to prevent him from going, but his look silenced her. He picked up his ring of keys from the coffee table in the living room, and stomped out the house.  
  
Inside, his easel crashed down onto the wood. 


	17. Sixteen

Author's Note: Squaresoft owns characters and I own plot. I'm going to warn you now that I will have some very disturbing scenes up very soon, so if you can't take certain situations I recommend you to skip the next chapter. I'm a Squall-lover and everything but sometimes bad things just need to happen (yeah, *that's* a great excuse). Proceed with caution.  
  
  
  
Sixteen  
  
  
  
Squall hopped onto his Honda and cranked the engine. He pushed on the gas pedal with all of his might. The motorcycle started loudly and blasted down the otherwise quiet leaf-covered street, leaving a trail of wind in its wake.  
  
He didn't hear any of it. A fire consumed all of his logical thought. How could that bastard do this? He fumed. The red still lingered in his vision, causing him to lose visual in the corners of his eyes. Sure, I did break his computer. But that was purely accidental, and I was going to actually pay for it. Now, he could kiss my ass. Squall scoffed and grinded his teeth. No way he's getting a dime out of me.  
  
He lost sense of direction and had to brake abruptly when he came to a stop sign. Not that there's any other people out here because the early evening stars already chased away most of them. Squall looked around and realized he didn't know where he was. Dark shadows lined the road, trees and other vegetations apparently. He saw the street name and didn't recognize it. Where am I?  
  
He slowly stepped on the gas and rode forward. The street curved and dipped. Trees closed in around him, making it even harder to discern left and right. Squall had been in the town for 3 months, but that's not enough time to know every nook and cranny of the place. He stopped a second, closed his eyes, then reopened them with a purpose. He saw an intersection coming up, and turned onto it as if he knew exactly what was on the other end.  
  
Miraculously, he did. He ended up emerging onto the main street he used every day to get to school. Squall let go of the breath he had been holding for some time now. What now? Fujin's?  
  
No. He shook his head as he remembered. Fujin told him that she'd be out tonight with her boyfriend. He doubts she'd appreciate him showing up unexpectedly at her door when she came back from her date, probably bring the guy along with her. He didn't have a phone on him; it's left in the house to recharge. So he couldn't call Fujin to tell her anything either. And he hadn't made any other friends that he could trust to spend the night with.  
  
It seemed like a hotel room was all there was left for an option. Squall reached into his back pocket and retrieved his wallet. He counted the money; it was enough to get a cheap hotel for at least a night. Tomorrow he would see Fujin and he could crash at hers for a while. He hated to trouble her again, but he knew he needed at least a few days to re- gather his thoughts and come up with an idea for the last painting. He couldn't bring himself to paint the same one again. The due date wasn't until next week; he'd manage.  
  
All the cheap hotels, unfortunately, were found in New Haven. It was already quite late, and the traveling to the city plus the time to find a hotel didn't help with the hours of sleep he'd get this night. He sighed. How many times did I sigh in the past hour? He thought, a faint bitter smile crossed his lips. He turned the motorcycle and headed toward New Haven.  
  
It wasn't that cold, quite odd for the weather. Squall didn't think much more than how grateful he was since he had no jacket. The black sweater fit snugly onto his torso as he zoomed down the road.  
  
  
  
  
  
Back at the house, the three figures hadn't moved from the living room.  
  
Quistis dropped herself onto the sofa and sat there, staring at the two men in front of her. Seifer was fussing over his computer, which indeed had been broken. Irvine was busy over Squall's fallen easel. He's trying to separate the canvas from the easel without tearing the canvas more.  
  
"The thing's ruined, okay? Drop it!" came from Seifer's direction.  
  
"You shouldn't have done it. It was an accident, and it really was my fault. You didn't need to pay him back like this."  
  
Seifer only snickered at Irvine's words. "What happened? Thought you hate the guy, too."  
  
Irvine laughed out loud, which made Seifer pause in his examination and looked at the figure crouching on top of the canvas. "You don't fool me, Seifer. What do you think I am, stupid or something? Hate the guy, too? Please, like you hate him. You want to suck his dick so bad that you don't know what else to do when he's around."  
  
"Irvine!" Quistis warned.  
  
"You dare say that one more time, Kinneas." Seifer's voice shook.  
  
"Next time when he comes close to your vicinity," with a grunt Irvine successfully pried the canvas from the easel without further damage, "don't be so blatant. Try subtlety for once. It may surprise you, but to win someone over a little kindness actually counts. But if you're going for an easy lay don't ask me."  
  
He picked up the easel, set it aside, and put the canvas on the tabletop. Then he picked up the broken brush and looked at it. All the while Seifer's eyes followed his every move. Quistis stood up as Irvine walked away from the battlefield. He came up to her and planted a kiss on her opened mouth. "I'm sorry."  
  
Quistis smiled. Then she quickly said, "We can talk about his later. First, look." She pointed to one side of the sofa.  
  
He turned to see Squall's jacket hung listlessly on the arm. It didn't registered on him what she was talking about until he suddenly recognized the bulge in the side pocket.  
  
Squall's gun.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Jesus Christ!"  
  
Squall cursed loudly when he heard a pop and then felt the bumps. He pulled the bike over and hopped off. He checked and discovered a small nail was stuck in the middle of his front tire.  
  
Not much of a surprise, though. The street he had been traveling on was not one of those bright and shiny avenues. But it just *had* to happen when I *least* needed it. He groaned in frustration and threw his hands up. Well, what else can you do? The hotel he was heading for weren't far off, only several blocks away. Might as well walk it.  
  
Squall locked the bike and hauled it to a corner. He found some useless plastic and draped it over the Honda. Couldn't afford to lose it now. He then made a mark as to find it again tomorrow morning. The wheel wouldn't turn because it's too flat. Plus, he wanted to get to a lighted area quicker since it was completely dark.  
  
He walked a block or two before he realized something. The slight chill attacking his arms was not all that's bothering him about the absence of his jacket. His gun was in it. *He was a walking in New Haven without a gun at night.* The steady ringing in his ear since he left the house suddenly subsided, as did the fuzzy redness around his eyes.  
  
Squall became exclusively aware of his surroundings now. He was standing in the middle of a dark alley. Various buildings bordered him, and they all looked broken in and abandoned. The air was deadly quiet. He had no protection of any kind. And he was alone.  
  
The last thought made him broken into a run. He knew he needed to get out of here. Fast. His shoes crackled the rocks under his feet.  
  
All of a sudden, out of nowhere, a pair of extended hands grabbed his arm and dragged him sideways, into the blooming darkness. 


	18. Seventeen

Author's Note: Squaresoft owns characters and I own plot. Warning: really disturbing content although nothing graphic. This is the result of my inspiration being from movies like *The General's Daughter* and *Boys Don't Cry* and the like. And just for the record, no, I did not mean to seem sound similar to Persephone's work; I came up with the idea before I read any of her stories so hopefully no one'll say this is idea-stealing or something. Careful what you read. But if you don't care, enjoy.  
  
  
  
Seventeen  
  
  
  
He was thrown roughly into an empty warehouse. His back connected with the cold hard floor. He pushed up on his elbows and stared dizzily at the attacker, no, attackers. There were six of them.  
  
Squall felt his breathing sped up. He could imagine what he must've looked like right then: eyes wide open with shock, mouth slacking, and a tiny bead of sweat gliding down the side of his face. The six men stared down at him, all with odd grins on their faces save one. A few rubbed their hands together. And one on the side had a rope and gags in his hand.  
  
"No. No." Squall jumped up when the realization struck him hard. He made a mad dash as to break through the barricade. *Please let me go.*  
  
Futile thoughts run free. Several arms caught him and pushed him back onto the floor. They held down his arms and legs. One of the free ones stepped up to him, smirking.  
  
"Now now, calm down." He said. "This is actually up to you, you know. If you cooperate it won't hurt one bit."  
  
"Yeah, pretty boy. Come on, it'll be fun." Another agreed.  
  
Squall didn't know what he did. He didn't care, either, but apparently it wasn't the answer they were looking for. The first guy's eyes narrowed. He flicked out a switchblade and jumped on top of Squall. He slammed right between Squall's legs, causing Squall to scream out in pain.  
  
"See, I hate it," the guy with the knife slashed at Squall's sweatshirt, "when people like you" – slash – "just" – slash – "won't" – slash – "cooperate."  
  
Squall's shirt was in tatters by now and blood decorated his chest in slivers of red. One of the guys who's still holding his arms down yanked the garment off of his body and threw it aside. The rest jeered and hollered. Squall felt the acute thin pain soaring throughout his body. He took in a sharp breath, then struggled harder to free himself from their grasp.  
  
Somehow he bucked the guy with the knife off of him and got one of his legs out. He immediately kicked up, knocking one of them on the head and heard him fall. Squall then shook free of the other two. He made a second attempt to bust through the door, remarkably knew where it was even though he couldn't see it.  
  
And he was stopped the second time. Someone caught him from behind, latched his arms together behind his back. The burden turned him around. All he saw was a flash of light, then the solid pain as a fist collided with his nose. He clearly heard the bone crunch and shatter. Waves of dizziness attacked him from the pain. He closed his eyes.  
  
"Little slut, dare hit me! This time you're going down for good!" Punches landed in his abdomen and stomach, causing him to lose his breath.  
  
"Hey, man, look, why don't we just sedate him then –"  
  
"It's more fun this way," a voice from the side, the very first one he heard, said. "Spread him out."  
  
He was again thrown onto the floor. Someone grabbed his hands and he felt ropes tied tightly around his wrists, where they were anchored into the ground. Then, deft fingers were unbuckling his belts. Soon his pants were yanked away, along with his boxers. Cold wind whipped around his naked body as his ankles were secured in the same fashion his hands were. They had him spread eagled on the floor. At last the one with the gag came up and firmly pushed it in his mouth.  
  
The action made his already burning face hurt even more. He couldn't open his eyes even if he wanted to. The men shuffled around and taunted.  
  
"Ooh, nice . . . I like to get my hands on that . . . you will, idiot . . . why'd you gag him? That mouth sure look pretty . . . just for a few minutes, stupid, then we'd take it out and . . . he got a very tight ass . . . ha ha, wait till I beat that pussy in . . . . .. "  
  
"*Now* let's sedate him."  
  
Squall felt acid bile gathering in his throat and lodged there. He also wished to be deaf, which unfortunately was not granted. A small sting suddenly invaded his left arm. It was minute, comparatively to the pains emanating from his chest and face. A minute later, a numbness enveloped his body, chasing away all the fire blazing in him. His never-opened eyes remained tightly shut. Waiting to drift off into unconsciousness.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
  
  
Sharp pain suddenly exploded throughout his body.  
  
He wasn't expecting that. He thought he'd simply be lying on the hard cement with scraps of metal and rock under him until daylight breaks and someone finds him. The drug must've been either cheap or designed to be that way, because it wore off much much quicker than he previously assumed. *Too* quickly.  
  
Waves and waves of pain originating from his sore rear and the end tip of his spine surged inside him, ripping his nerves and muscles into shreds. He moaned loudly, afraid to move and even more afraid to cry out for help. They could be near still. If they hear him awaken they'd . . ..  
  
*Stop thinking!* His mind screamed. Images flooded his eyelids, causing him to twist and groan in reflex, which only made the excruciating pain worse. Unlike what he, again, assumed, the drug didn't knock him out completely. It simply dulled the sensation around his sensitive nerve fibers, yet he was conscious, and sensed everything. Every single thing that had been done to him, forced on him, he knew. The expression of the men when they fulfilled themselves using his body. Their dirty words, worthless insults. Their cruel laughter and his own helplessness due to the side effects of the drug. Everything.  
  
They burned.  
  
Squall opened his eyes after a long struggle, and stared at the black night sky. He never could imagine that the steady rhythm of his heart could bring stabs into his every vein and artery with persistence. He twitched under the dark night, trying to out-battle his own perceptions.  
  
He failed.  
  
After what seemed like a lifetime, he realized that the men weren't coming back. They simply deserted him, abandoning him in the street to . . . what? Die?  
  
Another wind picked up. Even though it's quite warm to the average, it added tremendous chill to Squall's bare torso. He only then realized that they put his pants back on but left off everything else. In the month of December in Connecticut, that was enough to get more than goosebumps. *I have to move. Get off the street.* He doggedly thought in the logical part that's left in his brain.  
  
With what he perceived as inhuman strength, Squall rolled over and pushed his upper body up on his elbows. He immediately regretted the decision because it put some unwanted pressure on his backside and waist, but he didn't falter, only moaned aloud again. Absentmindedly, he slid his left hand downward to get more leverage, only to feel it slip into a pool of liquid.  
  
That's when he looked down at himself for the first time. Bruises and cuts covered his fine exposed skin. He felt fluid still seeping out of his body, gluing the pants' material to his leg with moisture. He was submerged in a large puddle of blood.  
  
Which explained why he was losing his strength fast, and the fact he was freezing.  
  
Squall felt another wave of dizziness attacked his head. He tried to get up, but that only intensified the feeling and he saw the ground shift abruptly up. The last thing he saw charring deep into his mind was a pair of glinting amber eyes.  
  
A couple of yards away, in the shutters of an abandoned warehouse, another pair of eyes fixed on the figure lying immobile on the ground. It was full of sympathy, regret, and guilt. The eyes were so light, that they looked almost clear. There was water swirling inside the pastel blue.  
  
And above, the beautiful stars twinkled romantically on the black veil of peace. 


	19. Eighteen

Author's Note: Squaresoft owns characters and I own plot. I'm back, finally, after a month of vacationing. Sorry to keep everyone waiting. Hopefully this story's going back on track.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Eighteen  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Doctor, what exactly is wrong with him? How is he?"  
  
The man in white looked directly into the silver-haired girl's eye. He took a breath. "He's got a broken nose, a couple of broken ribs, and severe anal tearing. Along with minor bruises and cuts, of course. He had traces of certain anesthetics in his system, but that's not a problem anymore. He also has a fever. We're putting him on antibiotics right now." He looked around at the group. "Any of you his family?"  
  
"Yes," the brunette girl next to him quickly replied. "I'm his sister."  
  
"Let me speak with you privately." The doctor directed. He led the teary-eyed girl into another room. "I suggest you let us run some more tests on him."  
  
"What kind of tests?" Her voice shook a little.  
  
"STDS. Genital herpes. HIV/AIDS. The like."  
  
She gasped involuntarily. Then she pressed her lips together. "It'd be best." She said after a moment.  
  
The doctor nodded in consent.  
  
After he left to tell the nurses, Ellone broke down once again and buried her face in her hands.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It was Quistis who found him.  
  
She screamed when she did. Her shrill voice eventually led to the presence of the others, who eventually called the ambulance, which brought out the cops, and then came the questioning.  
  
No one was actually overly concerned until Irvine phoned Fujin and found out she wasn't there. The sinking feeling deep in his girlfriend's stomach that she staunchly mentioned plus a few other clues and factors he gathered recently made Irvine turn from suspicion to fear. He made Seifer dialed Fujin's cell phone, and told Rinoa to contact Ellone. They all went out for the search.  
  
When they found Squall lying unconscious in his own blood, half naked, with obviously semen streaked on his pants, it didn't take a genius to guess what happened. After the boys finally calmed down the freaking Quistis and the sobbing Ellone, while managing to call the right people, Fujin was furious enough to kill someone.  
  
And not surprisingly, so was Seifer.  
  
It was Irvine who logically pointed out that they had no target, and would probably not have any target until Squall wakes up. Even then, he had to be emotionally stable enough to tell it, perhaps to the police. They were wasting energy to try to figure this out right now. Let's help Squall first.  
  
That's what he *said.* Someone had to say it, to keep the racing minds under control.  
  
But inside, every single one of them knew the only possible suspect of this crime. There was even enough verification (as in bodily fluids and DNA) to prove the suspect guilty like before. And like every single previous crime committed involving said suspect, with evidences and witnesses, the guilty would still run free of the law's grasp and remain as a "wronged innocent", and continued to prey.  
  
There really isn't much one could do when a gun is pointed at his temple, and a large sum of money is placed on the table in front of him.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"But that doesn't make it right!" A flustered Quistis yelled.  
  
"Quiet down, girl, this *is* a hospital." Zell shushed.  
  
"I don't care!" She did lower her voice even though her tone remained the same. "We know it's him. The police know it's him. There's evidence to prove it's him. That's enough to get him jailed!"  
  
"You know it doesn't work like that." Irvine replied quietly from his seat in the waiting room.  
  
"Just because Keith's father is the -"  
  
"And that means everything!" Irvine rebutted. "Sweetie, calm down. There's nothing we could do, however unfair it may be."  
  
"Not necessarily," Fujin mumbled in her corner.  
  
"Fu." Irvine warned her. "Don't do anything irrational. Keith's not worth that."  
  
She scoffed but said nothing more.  
  
"Where's Seifer?" Selphie suddenly perked. "And Elle?"  
  
"He's with Squall." The door to the room opened as Ellone stepped back in. She sighed as she dropped in a spare chair. "He kept on apologizing. To me. To Squall's unconscious form. I mean, it's rather odd."  
  
"Apologizing? For what?" Irvine raised an eyebrow.  
  
"For driving him out the house, duh." Zell rolled his eyes.  
  
"And destroying his painting." Quistis added. "Irvine, what's wrong with you?"  
  
Irvine shook his head. "Nothing. Ellone, what did the doctor said to you?"  
  
Ellone looked tired. "Just more tests."  
  
"Tests? What tests?" Selphie piped.  
  
When Ellone didn't answer, the majority of the room nodded in understanding and retreated. Except for Zell.  
  
"What?" He persisted.  
  
"Use your head, dufus." Fujin slapped the back of Zell's head.  
  
"Man, what's that . . . oh. Oh! Oh." He fumbled.  
  
No one said anything more. They sat in the waiting room, none knew what exactly were they waiting for but nevertheless stayed. Soon a nurse came in and handed Ellone some papers to sign - consent forms. As she filled out the works, the door opened and in came a man in the police uniform.  
  
"Are all of you here because of this . . ." the policeman checked a piece of paper in his hand. ". . . Squall Leonhart?"  
  
Everyone nodded in unison.  
  
"Well, I'm afraid everyone of you is needed for further questioning. Who first discovered the case?"  
  
Quistis feebly raised her hand. The policeman pointed to an adjacent room, "Come this way, young lady." 


	20. Nineteen

Author's Note: Squaresoft owns everything, I own plot and other things that's exclusively this story. Hopefully I can actually finish this now, because my huge convoluted plot for Hotchpotch is left at home. I'm going to finish this, yes I am, yes I am . . . . . Nineteen 

The blinding white light was what he first saw.

His eyes immediately closed again, self-protecting from the intrusion. A few moments later, they reopened diffidently. It was still harsh, but the light at least could be tolerated. Slowly the stinginess faded into comfort. Then routine.

Squall blinked a few times. He allowed his eyeballs to roam around the room, recognizing enough substances to identify that he was lying in a hospital bed. It was a bit cold. Squall pulled the white standard blanket closer to himself, turning his head at the same time.

He was expecting to see someone sitting in the chair next to him, but it ranged in the field of Ellone or maybe Fujin. Not Seifer Almasy. Most certainly not. Sitting perched on the hard chair with his head lolled to the side in an exhausted sleep, the blond didn't show any acknowledgement that he heard Squall's rustling. Squall frowned.

As if his gaze could actually be felt, Seifer opened his eyes as Squall stared at him in confusion and distrust. Two crystalline beams met in the air between them and sparked.

"Are you okay?" Seifer spoke.

"What are you doing here?" Squall glared at him.

The expression on Seifer's face cleared showed he was trying not to roll his eyes. "You still hurting? Want something to drink?"

The glare was replaced by awe. "Uh, actually . . . yes. . . . . . Could you?"

Seifer stood up and walked to the far corner of the room. He poured a glass of water from the table, then came back by Squall's bed. Squall shifted himself up, leaning on the pillows. The movement sent a stream of sharp pain from his tailbone, causing him to hiss back a breath.

Seifer didn't miss it. He set the glass down by the bedside lamp and helped Squall readjust so he could half-sit half-lie comfortably with the pillow as his support. Seifer then raised the glass to Squall's lips and watched him swallow the cool nourishment.

"Is anyone else here?" Squall wiped his mouth with his fingers.

Seifer nodded. "Pretty much everyone. They're all sitting outside waiting for you to wake up. Do you want me to get them?"

". . . No." Why did it feel so odd? And why was he being so nice? Squall's mind twisted. "I'm . . . sure the nurses would inform them anyhow." He hastily added.

Seifer smiled a little. "If you don't want me to leave, just say so." Squall quirked an eyebrow. "Kidding. Kidding. I think I should just go, though. Finish the water. You need it." Seifer instructed, at the same time picked up one of Squall's hands and placed a soft kiss on the back. Before Squall even utters a word, he had already gone out the white door.

Squall blinked.

He removed his gaze from in front of him after a few moments and looked at the glass beside him. His thoughts stopped on the line of Seifer, instead, refocused on the reason why he's in here in the first place.

Unpleasant memories shot through his brain, causing his breathing to pick up and hitch. His back echoed in pain, reminding him vividly that hospitalization is actually not over the top. He grabbed the leftover water from the table and downed the rest in a gulp. Slight sweat broke out of his fair skin.

A gentle knock at the door forced him to reopen his eyes. After swallowing harshly to jump start his voiced box, Squall answered.

Ellone walked in. Her face was pale and tear-streaked. She took one look at Squall and her expression contorted. He could tell she was about to cry again, but managed to hold it back. She walked quickly to his bed and sat down on the chair beside it.

"How –"

He shook his head.

Ellone clamped up. She closed her eyes for a brief second. "Squall. The police are here."

He looked at her. It was expected that the order of law is going to interfere when an innocent is wronged. But she seemed to be hinting at something else than the obvious. However, he was in no condition to figure it out.

"They are already questioning people." Ellone continued. "They . . . they'd want to question you soon."

Squall understood. _Are you ready to talk about it this soon? _That's her question. To be more specific, _Are you ready to talk about it to a complete stranger?_

He didn't know. The experience was a dead weight. So far his bones hadn't recovered from the crush, but would providing information to punish the crusher help alleviate his pain? It may just be the trick.

It may also make things much worse. At least at this stage.

Squall took in a breath. "Whatever."

"So, your bike broke, you walked down the alley by yourself. Now may I ask you why were you walking alone down somewhere you knew was shady in the middle of the night?"

"I . . . I wasn't thinking about that. I was looking for a hotel."

"Did you know the area?"

"No."

"So why would you just get off in the middle of nowhere?"

"I was angry. I wasn't really thinking back then, all right?"

It was just him and the officer in his hospital room. The questioning hadn't even really begun, and Squall was already pissed at the way this officer had addressed him.

"Calm down," the policeman said. "Okay, so you were attacked, how many of them were there?"

"Six."

"All male?"

"Yes."

"Where did they got you?"

"I don't know. An abandoned warehouse, I guess."

"So they got you in, then what happened?"

"They . . .they beat me up. Tied my hands and feet -"

"Where?"

"On the floor. Then they -"

"In what fashion?"

"I . . . they – what does it matter?!"

"It matters, boy. In what fashion?"

". . . spread eagled."

"Okay. Then what?"

"Then . . . they put some kind of drug in me."

"Ah, I'm assuming you don't know what that is. Don't worry about it, I'll ask the doctor. Now when they popped you, where did they get you?"

Squall glared. "In me."

"_Where_ in you?"

". . . In my ass!"

"Hey!" The officer sensed the hostility. "Look, I'm asking you this so I can figure out _exactly_ what's going on here. I'm helping you here, okay? I'm doing this for _your_ benefit, not mine. Now you can cooperate so I can actually _catch_ those guys, or we'll call it a day and hope those guys turn themselves in. You got that?"

" . . . . . Yes."

"Good. Now, did they all have you?"

Squall nodded.


End file.
